The Legacy of the Forgotten
by Alexye
Summary: Sequel to The Legacy of the Blacks. Abandoned at the Dursleys and believed to be a squib, Harry must make his way in a world where the Light Side has won and Lord Voldemort has been vanquished. Warning for darker themes and storylines.
1. The pangs of despised Love

" **The pangs of despised Love"**

 **1981 – 6**

"Are you nervous?"

"I wasn't nervous until you mentioned it, no, so thank you for that," Sirius replied sarcastically, before exasperatedly wrestling his robes away from his younger brother.

"Don't worry." Regulus shrugged as he leaned back against the door. "You're only competing against her dead fiancé. You'll be fine."

"What did you put me in anyways?" Sirius ignored his brother's troublemaking as he turned to the mirror, grappling with the bowtie. "This – this – this _thing_ –"

"You're getting married," his brother replied drily. "You need to be in formal robes. Why do you complain so much, anyways? All you do is complain. Complain, complain, complain –"

"I wouldn't complain so much if they were comfortable. Why is it so hard to get _comfortable_ robes?"

Regulus stepped forward, batting his hands away. "Calm down," he muttered, twisting the tie this way and that until, magically, it hung comfortably on Sirius' neck. "There you go."

"Thank," Sirius said quietly, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He bit his lip. "Do we – it's time to go down, isn't it?"

"Yeah." The silence hung in the air for a little too long. "Mother would have been really happy for you," Regulus said finally. "She liked her. They all did."

Sirius nodded stiffly. "At least she went quickly. The healer said it was painless, going in your sleep like that."

Regulus smiled at his brother. "I hope you and Rhiannon have as happy of a marriage, Sirius." He swallowed. "I really do."

* * *

"What's your name?"

Her voice was sweet, like how She talked to Dudwey. But – he glanced over to where She and He were, trying to sink into the ground. Dudwey had run ahead again, barging into her.

"What's your name?"

He peeked up under his overgrown hair.

This one looked pretty. Like how Dudwey's fwiends mummies looked. She smelled nice. Like clean clothes and the flowers She made him cut. But then she tried to reach out to him, and he shrunk back reflexively – and then she seemed unhappy.

Then She and He were there, and they weren't happy, and he tried to hide himself, tried to hide –

"Mummy!" The golden-haired girl yelled, barreling into her. "Mummy! Look what I – " The girl stopped as she noticed She and He. "I –" she smiled nervously. "Mummy, look at my flower," she whispered, tugging on her skirt. "Mummy –"

But She spoke first.

"How... pretty."

He glanced up at her. Her wasn't smiling anymore.

"What's your son's name?" her asked quickly. "He seems very sweet."

 _He_ opened his mouth finally to speak, but –

"His name is Harry," She said coldly. "And he's our nephew. Is that your daughter?"

"Yes," her replied, hesitating.

"Ah."

"We'll be leaving," He said gruffly. "Bo – Harry. Dudley." They swept into that harsh light.

"My name is Hawwy," he whispered, but no one besides himself heard him. "Hawry."

* * *

"Mummy? Mummy?"

"Yes, Nymphadora?" Andromeda turned quickly, catching her daughter in a hug before she ran into the table and knocked all of the tea over. Nymphadora squealed in delight as her mother swung her up into the air, spinning her around – _just like Daddy used to do_ , Andromeda recalled suddenly, but pushed the instant pang right back down. "What is it sweetie?" She pinned the smile back on her face. She wanted her daughter to grow up happy – not with some sad mother to keep company, with only ghosts around her.

"They – they were sawying cowsin – cowsin –"

"Cousin?" Andromeda asked gently. "I have two cousins, sweetie. You haven't met them."

Nympadora nodded determinedly. "They said he was getting mawwied. But they weren't happy," she said with a frown. "Why weren't they happy, Mummy?"

Andromeda didn't let the smile drop from her face, laughing happily. "Don't worry about it, darling. I'm sure they were happy. What else did you do at the Weasleys?"

Her adorable little munchkin frowned with a big pout. Andromeda could see the cogs going in her head – _she just has to get everything right_ , she marveled. Her daughter was so stubborn – but it'd serve her well.

"We –" Nymphadora bit her lip. "I told them abowt Rose's new flowers," she said suddenly, beaming. "Abowt how the flowers that turned yellow. But they didn't care." Her pout returned. "Mummy?"

"Yes?" Andromeda said absentmindedly, pushing Nymphadora's bangs back.

"Do I have to go over to the Weasleys'?" Nymphadora asked suddenly. She bit her lip, turning away guiltily. "I cowld – I cowld stay here with you," she offered up. "I cowld help you in the howse. They don't have to watch me."

"Sweetie, I just want you to play with your friends," Andromeda replied in surprise, frowning. "Are the Weasleys not your friends?" she asked slowly.

Nymphadora still wouldn't look at her. "... no," she finally responded.

Andromeda swallowed, but she could feel him glaring at her back, and she'd kept him waiting too long. "Go up to your room and look at your book," she murmured, drawing her daughter – _unwillingly_ , she noted – into a hug. "We'll talk about this later. But you don't have to if you don't want to."

Nymphadora started to smile a little bit as she looked up shyly at her mother. "Ok," she said happily.

"You let her talk about Lily?" Severus whispered angrily, after the door swung close.

"Don't worry," Andromeda replied coolly, dusting off her knees as she stood up. She turned back to the table, fussing over the tea. The water had cooled off just a bit, but that was how Rose liked it. "It doesn't matter."

"It –" Severus reached her in two long strides. "It. doesn't. _matter_?" he hissed angrily.

Andromeda glanced up, taking in Severus' angry glare before going back to fixing the tea. "It doesn't matter," she confirmed. _There_. She straightened her back, turning to Severus with a reassuring smile. "It doesn't matter. You'd be amazed how much they ignore her," she said dryly. "Besides, Molly surprised me one time and noticed someone else was living here. I told her it was just a girl I'd taken in after the war, to help out. She didn't question it. And now nobody will question it if they see the odd person around the garden."

"The odd person is not _Lily Evans_ ," Severus noted coolly.

"If that happens, there's nothing we can do," Andromeda said calmly. "Besides," she went on, her voice getting quieter. "I can't change her face. Would you have me leave her on the streets?"

Severus stared at her, his face unreadable. "And it's wise to let Nymphadora see her?" he said abruptly. "Maybe it'd be better if –"

"No." Andromeda's shut down was firm. "I –" she sighed. "There's no one else for Nymphadora to talk to," she confessed, glancing towards her daughter's window. "She – none of them return my notes. I've been sending her over to the Weasleys, but – well, she likes to study. Her children would be happy playing in the mud. And I think Molly's been saying some things –"

"She has," Severus said quietly.

Andromeda nodded, sighing. "I thought she might. But they've been –"

"What if I started tutoring her in Potions?" Severus interrupted. Andromeda turned back to him, startled, her eyebrow raised. "It wouldn't be an issue," he assured her quickly. "It'd be simple stuff, very easy – and Lucius asked me to tutor his son, too. I'm already over here every afternoon, anyways."

Andromeda bit her lip. "It would get her doing something useful," she murmured. "If you're sure –"

Severus shrugged. "I have to practice teaching on someone," he said.

* * *

He could hear the locks twist shut one by one.

He'd always been in the darkness, but this time was different. This time he wasn't a lost boy in the darkness. This time, he had a name.

 _Harry_.

All day, he'd been practicing it quietly. Even his growling stomach couldn't stop him. He kept practicing until he could say it right, just like She had said it.

But now he could, and now he had nothing to keep the hunger at bay.

Harry shivered, trying to get the ragged blanket to cover his whole body. If he went to sleep, it'd only be a few –

 _Why are you hungry_? a voice said suddenly.

Harry shrank into his bed. They told him not to make things up, what if They caught him, They always knew –

"You're not," It said suddenly.

It wasn't a voice in his head, he realized. Or maybe it was, but It seemed...

"I am real," the voice interrupted. "Why are you hungry?" It repeated, more curious.

"I – I don't get dinner," Harry said softly.

"Why?"

Harry frowned. "I was nuw – I was bad at Church," he pronounced. "Food is for good bowys, like Duwdey."

"You're not a bad boy," It said.

"I am," Harry insisted. "That's what She says all the time. I'm very bad, and I must be tawt to be better."

"You're not," It said again. "Is that why you're locked in here?"

Harry nodded, but he didn't really know why.

"That's not right," It said firmly. "They shouldn't lock you in here."

"They – they shouldn't?"

"No," the voice said again. "No one should be locked up like this."

Harry frowned again. "But – but my pawents were vewy bad. That was what She said."

"They weren't bad," the voice said softly. "They weren't."

* * *

"Molly!" As always, James greeted her with a beaming smile and a hug – which she returned, albeit with exhaustion. "The kids are in the backyard – the twins are teaching the boys some tricks," he said laughingly, with a little wink.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Boys will be boys," she said wearily. "Is your aunt outside?"

"Of course! I'm just going to go back and play with the kids – Charles is so great –"

"Mhm." Molly let her body rest for a moment as James barreled back out into the yard. She could hear all the kids – James included – yelling from here.

"Molly," Dorea called, just through the doors.

"Lady Potter," she greeted. _It must be a good day_ , Molly mused. _She's never outside._

"Please, sit." Dorea herself was sitting stiffly in her chair, a blanket tucked tightly around her legs. "Poppy! Please bring Mrs. Weasley some water."

"Thank you." Molly smiled at Dorea, who only nodded stiffly back. "Charles is growing up quite a bit," she finally said, racking her brain with what to say about the child who'd torn apart her kitchen. _And I'll have to find something new for the next week's dinners,_ she remembered, fighting back a wince at the thought. The chicken would have made several hearty dinners. _Just need to get them to Hogwarts. Then it won't be a worry_. But that brought up the issue of books, and more clothes, and wands – _stop it, Molly_.

"He is, isn't he. We had to start flying lessons for him – he's such a natural, it just didn't seem fair to keep him off the broom. I suppose we'll have to get a tutor next year, too. He's just too bored with playing in the yard all day."

Molly fought the urge to snort. _To bored to play, indeed._ He hadn't looked to bored tearing up her flowerbeds – but it wasn't like she could say anything. She could hardly keep all her boys in check anyways.

"And speaking of, Charles did mention you had my dear grandniece over to play." Dorea said quite suddenly. "How is Andromeda's daughter?"

"Quite well," Molly answered cautiously, testing the waters. "She – well, we've really only had her over a few times."

"Ah."

"I've been trying to keep an eye on her," Molly confessed. "I wanted to make sure she was being brought up the right way –" she winced, as she realized she'd insulted her hostess' family.

"And you were quite right to do so," Dorea replied firmly. "Quite right. That being said –" she gestured over to her grandnephew. "I'm not sure it would be... _wise_ to have our dear Charles in such company. Not wise at all," she murmured. "Especially since Ron and your older boys will be joining him in flying lessons."

"Lady Potter –" Molly gaped at the offer. It'd certainly give them a leg up, befriending the Savior – _but the cost of the broomsticks_. "Of course, Nymphadora isn't too good of a fit for the boys," she replied hastily. _And that mother of hers thinks she's too good for the Weasleys_. Molly couldn't remember the last time Andromeda had actually visited – too busy taking care of the house. _Too busy._ She didn't have anyone to take care of, anything to do except laze around all day like a queen. Not that she could expect anything less of her – all the Blacks were like that, after all. "And Ginny is a little too young to be playing with –"

Dorea turned to her with a frown. "You have a daughter?" she demanded.

Molly smiled at little bit at the thought of her youngest. "Yes, she'll be – oh, four this year? I can never keep track –"

"So she'd be your youngest."

"Yes," Molly replied quickly. "The first girl – well, for several generations, actually..." she tried to calculate the exact number, but then shook her head. "Well, for several generations. And we never expected a girl after six boys!"

"Seven children," Dorea murmured under her breath. She smiled, a long, deep smile. "You are blessed indeed."

* * *

He was in the dark again, alone. He must have made the voice up, it hadn't come – She was going to find out, and be so upset with him, and then –

"Harry." It – Tom, Harry remembered. It's name was _Tom_.

"Tom?" he said softly. "Tom?"

Tom chuckled. "I'm right here, Harry."

"But – but, but you were gone and –"

"I couldn't stay for long," Tom said smoothly, calming him. "I'm not very strong, unfortunately."

"But – but –"

"I won't leave you," Tom promised, before he could even ask. "I won't leave you now."

Harry's stomach growled loudly.

"I have something to show you," Tom said suddenly. "Would you like to learn your letters?"

Harry bit his lip, but nodded. Letters sounded fun. _Was that what Dudwey learned in school?_

"Yes, it is," Tom replied. "Here. Come over to this corner." The inch of light that came through the crack shone on the deep layer of dust. Harry knelt, unsure of what to do, but then – he found himself tracing a circle. A weird one.

"That's an _a,_ Harry," Tom said.

* * *

"Darling," Rhia draped her arm comfortably over Sirius' shoulder, just like she always did every night. "Won't you come to bed?"

Like every night, Sirius had stayed up late in the library, pouring over book after book. The candle was almost burned out, the wax dripping softly into the bowl and over the old desk, the light flickering in and out.

"Just a minute," he murmured.

"What's the book tonight?" she asked, ignoring him. Rhia lifted the cover up a little under his hand as soon as he turned to the next page.

Sirius gave up, and sighing, closed the book and leaned back. "Just another useless one on rituals. I was trying –" he bit his lip. "Bella thinks her child might have been used for something," he confessed. "I hadn't gotten anywhere on anything else, so I wanted to look into it deeper for her."

"She might be right," Rhia replied, to Sirius' surprise. "They might not have killed the child straightaway. Did she say anything about Longbottom as well?"

Sirius shrugged. "She's never said anything about the trial. Or about Rudolphus. But you think she might be right...?"

His wife shrugged mysteriously, as if speaking to a child. "A mother knows," Rhia said simply. "And are you still looking for – "

"It burns, every now and then," Sirius said simply, both sharply aware how little they could say of the matter, even here, in the stronghold of the Blacks. "But it'll be nigh impossible, without knowing more of that night. All I know – all anyone knows is that Lily died, Charles Potter survived, and He was gone. But..." his eyes narrowed, as if trying to pierce through some fog. "But it was like He knew what would happen," he murmured. "And everyone said that – not just me. Lucius, Goyle, even the Lestranges before – well, before –"

"Wilkes said the same," Rhia said suddenly. Sirius startled a little - they'd never discussed her dead fiancée, not since she'd come to him before the hasty marriage. "That was why they were caught where they were," she continued quietly. "They always said they were on the run, but they weren't – not really. He'd sent them to find something."

"Did either of them say what?"

Rhia smiled sadly. "We never really talked about it too much. He sent them out right before – they only left after He fell. By that time, both of them wanted me to be able to deny that I knew anything. Not that it did much good in the end."

"No," Sirius murmured. The silence fell comfortably between then, both lost in thoughts of the past. "Did they ever find it?" he asked suddenly, glancing up at his wife. "Whatever they were searching for?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I only found out that they were caught in some town called Larkhill, but I had to flee so quickly before the Aurors came for me that I never was told the rest. And by that point, I didn't want to know."

"Larkhill?" Sirius asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Larkhill," Rhia confirmed. "They took a few of the Aurors down with them, thankfully. Blew up the whole shack. That was why I never really found out the rest – there weren't any bodies to bury. Nothing to do but move on."

"My aunt and uncle had a house in Larkhill," Sirius murmured, lost in thought. "The Order caught them there... and she sent the whole house up in flames."

Rhia raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "Perhaps it's worth a visit?"

"Of course," Sirius smirked at his wife. "We're only looking at the house. Our Black house. As is our right, as Lord and Lady." Rhia smirked right back, and he rose, embracing her. "They can't touch you now. They can't touch either of us, Lady Black," he whispered in her ear, kissing her on the cheek.

She giggled a little, and whacked him over the head. "I think we'll need to continue this conversation in bed..."

* * *

" – how could you _let_ her –"

"I didn't let her do anything!"

She kept playing with her puzzle, her gold-reddish hair hiding her face. She didn't like it when her parents fought, but if she pretended not to hear, maybe they wouldn't notice that she'd heard everything.

"Did you see the way that woman _looked_ at me?" her mother demanded suddenly. She could just see them through the kitchen doorway. "At me! She knew what is was – she _knew_ –"

"How could she know?" her father asked gently, trying to placate her mother. "How could she know? We don't even know what it is."

"I know, but –" her mother's voice softened, and she knew in an instant her mother had glanced over at her like she always did. Suspicious. Frightened.

Just a little bit. But none of her friends' mummies looked at their children that way, did they?

She frowned. _Just one friend now_ , she corrected herself. The rest of the mummies had started looking at her that way too.

"It's not right," she heard her father murmur. "We know that. But what can we do? There's nothing to explain it, nothing at all –"

"She grows flowers in her hands," her mother replied softly. "They just appear. And I can never cut her hair, and the –"

"So we'll stop it," her father interrupted. "It's not natural."

"Discipline," her mother whispered. "Whenever she does – does _something_. We have to."

Their muttering continued, but she bent her head a little to focus on finding that corner piece. In her hand, she squished a flower. Lilies had been her mother's favorite.

* * *

"He's been so tired, recently," Petunia said to her husband as she considered the Boy. "What's gotten into him? He's not even doing as much work as he used to."

"Humph." Vernon snorted, glaring at the Boy over the top of his paper. "He's fine."

"He nearly dropped dinner," Petunia murmured. "And he's cutting the flowers sloppily. I think we'll need to feed him some more, just a little."

Vernon crumpled his paper at this comments, looking at his wife in shock. " _More_? When he'd already eat us out of house and home happily? _More_?"

"Oh, just a little bit," Petunia said firmly. "I'll feed him just a little more."

"As you say, dear," Vernon replied, giving in. "But not too much. We're stretched very tight these days, very tight."

"They were so wrong to deny you that promotion, but they'll see, you'll – yes, Dudley?"

"There's not enough bacon, Mummy."

"Oh, sweetie – oh, you're right. Let me go get some more made for you, you're growing so quickly. Boy!"


	2. The Law's delay

" **The Law's delay"**

 **1986 – 7**

"I don't understand," Tom said quietly. "I don't understand."

Harry usually ignored Tom's mutters, but this time was different for some reason.

"Why do you keep saying that?" he asked, still buried in his book.

With Tom's help, he'd been able to fix the little light bulb in the cupboard under the stairs – not that his Aunt and Uncle would notice. And he'd tidied up a little bit, too. While learning what an Aunt and Uncle were. His homemade broom stood in the corner, lying against one of the some of the odds and ends he'd managed to sneak in. And the books, of course.

Not that Dudley would miss them.

And – oh, what books Harry had gobbled up in the year since Tom had taught him to read. The basic stuff, at first. Then Tom started reading, teaching him wild stories – stories about lost boys, and girls locked in attics, and a princess locked in a tower by an old witch. Stories filled with _magic_.

"Why you can't – " Harry had the peculiar feeling that Tom was _staring_ at him, and he looked up, frowning. Tom wasn't there, of course. Just present.

"Why you can't do magic," Tom said finally, in a funny little tone.

Harry laughed. "Magic's not real, Tom. Everyone knows that. That's silly." But he stopped laughing as the silence grew louder in the room. "Tom?" he asked, nervous.

"But of course it is, Harry," Tom replied. "Of course it is."

* * *

The damage hadn't been as bad as feared.

Though most of the house had gone – tumbled down in the flames – the old stone walls had stood strong. To the Muggles who'd manage to come down that little rickety path, the little manor house would have looked the same as it had always been. In the years since they'd last seen the place, the ivy had reclaimed parts of the walls and a little of where the attic had been. Above them, only a few great timbers from the floors remained, the damage from the blast still evident.

Under their feet, the pebbles and sticks and leaves that had been swept over and over the floors by the relentless winds crunched slightly as they went deeper into the ruins. They'd found a way in through where the kitchen had been, and now, they stood silently in what had been the entrance hall.

"This is where the blast came from," Rhia said quietly as Sirius knelt to examine the scorch marks.

"My aunt aimed it surprisingly well," Sirius replied, wiping off a few leaves as he stood up. "See?" He pointed towards the corners of the ceiling. "It took out the main support beams for the upper stories instantly. They would have collapsed, and then gone up in flames."

"But she shouldn't have had time to get down here. They said your uncles went down first – they didn't die from the fire. She wouldn't have been here. She wouldn't have been able to be down here. Unless –"

"Unless she was captured, maybe," Sirius commented. "She may have used wandless magic. This seems too powerful for her to have used her wand for. And it wasn't Fiendfyre – that would have taken down the stones themselves."

"So then?"

"You're right."

"But where..."

"I've never seen one on the first floor before," Sirius began slowly. "When Bella – well, she had a door on the top floor. So they would be stalled, and she'd have time. But I never knew where this house's room was."

"Maybe it wasn't – maybe the entrance wasn't on this floor, though. What if –" Rhia walked forward sharply towards the grand stone wall that had supported the stairs. "She'd already gotten out," Rhia remarked, as her fingers traced the smoky remains left on the cold stones. "She could have left. She didn't decide to come back to save them – they were already doomed. So she must have..."

"She was protecting something. She was a better fighter than my uncles, anyways. And you don't send the best away."

"Exactly. And this –" she nudged Sirius back as she gestured upward. "This is the only wall still standing." She glanced at her husband. "Can you – I can't tell."

Sirius frowned, as he examined the wall with his magic. Even now, the spells so deeply interwoven in the old house hadn't faded. There were the standard household spells – old ones, to keep away floods, and mold, and so on. The only one of those that had been damaged had been the one to keep out fire – but then he winced. It had been damaged, but...

He looked for anything that would reveal a doorway or passageway. It should have been right there, ready for him as the Head of the House, but it wasn't. There wasn't –

His eyes narrowed in realization, and he went back into the old spell to keep out fire. This time, he tugged on it – and there it went, weaving in and out of all the other spells...

Sirius pulled Rhia back a bit, and opened the trapdoor that had been right under them.

"Here we go," he remarked, as he eyed the stairs leading into the darkness below them gingerly. Rhia snorted, but followed him down gingerly as the stairs creaked, closing the door behind them. The lights from their wands only went so far.

"Sirius?" Rhia whispered, as they went down the stairs. "Sirius?" She tugged him a little closer, but kept them moving. "Sirius, there's no dust down here."

* * *

"I wish I could show you," Tom said finally, a little wistful.

They'd talked for days and days, and then some more, about magic, about Hogwarts, about wands and witches and wizards. Incredible things, _wonderful_ things – they talked of the Great Hall, the squid that lived in that big lake, the way you could just go up in the air and soar...

"I believe you," Harry said simply.

"... You do?" Tom's voice hesitated in the moment.

Finally, he spoke again. "You really do?"

"Of course," Harry replied, frowning a little. "Why wouldn't I trust you?"

"Well..." The silence fell comfortably between them. Harry didn't mind – Tom was often mysterious. He looked over at the stack of books by his little bed, frowning. He was almost done, but Dudley hadn't gotten any more.

"Don't you ever wonder how it is I'm here?" Tom interjected. "Don't you ever wonder how you can talk to me?"

Harry blinked, looking up. That was the odd part about Tom, not knowing where to look. "No," he replied blankly, with the complete frankness of a child. "Why? You're just here." The question was incomprehensible to him, even though he could – just barely, but he could – remember the time when Tom hadn't been there, when it had just been him in that cold little space. When he hadn't had anything to call his, not even a name. "Doesn't everyone have a Tom?"

"No," Tom said firmly. "And everyone doesn't live under the stairs."

Harry bit his lip at this reminder. Tom had gone over it so many times, but – "Is it because I'm a wizard?" he asked. "Do wizards have Toms?"

It sounded like Tom was chuckling at this remark, but he couldn't really tell. "Hearing voices isn't a good sign, even for a wizard," Tom said finally. "And no – wizards don't all have Toms." He let the silence fall again.

"Are you a wizard?" Harry asked abruptly.

"I was." Tom's voice seemed strange, as if – sad? _No, Tom was never sad._ "Perhaps I am now." He waited for the inevitable question.

"Did you know my parents?"

"Yes." From their little hiding spot, they could hear the floors creak upstairs, Harry tensing up instantly. But Tom soothed him gently, just as he always did. "Or at least, I met your mother."

"... Are you my dad?"

Tom paused. "No, Harry. Your father…" his voice trailed off.

But Harry didn't respond, his eyes gone wide as he stared at the creaking ceiling, terrified at the thought of anyone coming down –

"Are you sure you want to know?" Tom asked suddenly. "It's not a nice story, not like those ones I read to you all day. It's not for children."

Harry sank into his worn pillow, edging himself back into the little nook of his bed. It was the perfect size for him – small and cozy, though his feet were beginning to stick out of it a little. "Do I have a choice?" he asked, puzzled a bit at the notion.

"Yes," Tom said. "You always have a choice. I'll always give you one."

"Okay," he whispered slowly. "Will you tell me?"

* * *

His magic shivered when they reached the room.

Sirius could understand now why his aunt might have thought blowing up the house would be better protection for whatever lay down here – or what _had_ laid down here. They'd reached the end of the stairs some ways back, but it had only led to a sloping hallway, and then – _this_.

The room had been untouched by the blast, a cold cavern of plain stone. Water ran across the ceiling, slowly dripping into one puddle by the edge. The slow drip was the only noise in the room.

But there was nothing _in_ the room.

"It reminds me of the Slytherin dorms," Rhia remarked, as she stepped away, examining the walls around them. She glanced over at Sirius. "But it is a Black home – not very surprising."

Sirius knelt to the floor, trying to examine the magic of the strange room. "What did you mean before – when you said there wasn't any dust?"

"There wasn't any dust." His wife shrugged. "Didn't you notice? It's a little strange. The door's been closed for so long – maybe not in here, with the magic, but out in that hallway – there should have been some dust. There's only a few reasons there wouldn't be."

"If someone didn't want to be noticed," Sirius remarked. "That was the first thing we looked for, if we were leaving footprints behind. But– _wait_."

There it was, the little thing that had been letting out such a silent song. He hadn't even noticed it at first, busy as he was simply tracing the latent magic in the walls themselves. The magic in the room was older than most he'd encountered before, but it had been a safe room, so it would have been built when the house was. The charms and spells and curses ran everywhere in the room, tracing in and out of the stones, into even the air itself.

"Sirius?"

His wife's voice jolted him out of his slowed stupor. The air cleared, and suddenly he realized he'd knelt down to the floor.

A pebble.

It was almost beautifully simple – or maybe that was the magic. It was a slow hum, so simple as it drew Sirius further and further in. A lullaby, almost. His hand was so close, he could almost touch it, but –

In one graceful step, Rhia swept the rock into the dark folds of her cloak, now transformed into a loose bag. Sirius took the deep breath he hadn't known he was holding in, the magic finally muffled.

"What was that?"

Rhia pursed her lips.

"Something worth dying for," she replied at last.

* * *

 **1988**

"Charlie! Charlie! Come and get –"

Ron nearly slammed into the ground when he finally looked forward and saw the dark shadow looming over him. But instead he just sort of fell, embarrassingly, into the frost-covered grass that ran under his feet as they flew.

"His name is Charles," Lord Potter replied witheringly, glaring at the small thing that had landed at his feet. "Not _Charlie_."

Ron bit his lip, trying to do his best impression of a sinkhole. _But Charlie's uncle never comes out_. Not quickly enough, the shadow disappeared, stalking off as it went back into that old, creaky house.

"Watcha doing?"

Ron jumped a little bit, but lit up as he turned around – his best friend always made things better. "Just – just your uncle," he stammered nervously.

Charles shrugged with a grin, answering simply. "If you just do what he says, everything is fine. What's the problem with that – hey Dad!" he yelled, running off towards the house.

James Potter's hearty laugh could be heard miles away as his picked up his son and spun him around, ruffling his hair as Charlie – _Charles_ , Ron reminded himself, squealed a little in protest. Pouting a little to himself at being left out, Ron ran over determinedly, nearly bowling his mother over as he slammed into her legs.

"Ron." His mother sighed, but hugged him tightly anyways, just like she always did. Hidden in their warm embrace, she gave him a quick peck on the head – but that he was too old for, and he started to pull away again.

"We'd best be going," his mother said, pulling his hand into hers. "Thank you so much James – Ron, thank Charles' father –"

"No need!" James said with that perpetual grin, as he swung Charles back onto the ground. "How are all the others doing, Molly? Still surviving?"

"Well, the house hasn't burned down yet. Ron – run along with Charles there now –"

But he could still hear his mother slightly as he and Charles pushed through the doors.

"... it's too bad you and Lily never had the chance to have another," his mother replied.

"Charles is more than enough," Mr. Potter replied, laughing. "I can't even think of having another –"

"Watcha doing?" Charles pulled him away. "Come on. If we get to the candy before they come in, we can always blame it on the stupid house elf."

* * *

"They're watching you, you know."

"Who is?" Harry kept reading. Tom often made such mysterious pronouncements, floating up there in his own little world.

"I think they know about magic," Tom replied. "Your Aunt and Uncle, I mean. They just keep – they watch you. Muggles aren't supposed to watch you like that."

"Since when do you know so much about Muggles," Harry complained. "I thought you said they were strange." He got to the final pages of the chapter before he realized Tom hadn't responded.

"They are strange," he said finally, in a funny little voice. "Most just think there's something wrong. But they watch you. They _know_."

Harry shrugged. "But there's nothing to know. I don't have any magic."

"No."

"Tom?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Did my mum want me?"

"Of course, Harry."

"And my dad. You never talk about him."

Tom paused.

"Any father would be lucky to have you for a son."

"You said you weren't my dad."

"I'm not."

"Why not?" Harry asked simply.

Tom seemed puzzled by the question. "Because…"

"Tell me more about magic," Harry interrupted.

Tom smiled. "Magic is around us… It's part of us, a force that moves through this world. We do not exist without it. It will always exist without us."

Harry traced the frame of his bed. "… Is it in us, then?"

"It's in all of us," Tom said slowly. "In everything. Every tree, every rock – it's an energy that runs through us all."

"But they're different, right?"

"Different?"

"Like the magic in me... and the magic in a tree."

Tom didn't answer for a moment. "Yes and no." Harry waited for him to continue. "The way you... it's complicated, but the magic is the same. Your ability... how you can use it is different."

"Oh." Harry mulled it over in his head. "Like how I can run faster than Dudley?"

Tom laughed soberly at that. "Yes, Harry, that's a good way to think of it."

* * *

 **1988**

Regulus shivered reflexively as he entered the room, thankful for the thick robes he'd worn. It'd been nearly ten years since he'd last been here, in the dark, damp cavernous room below 12 Grimmuald Place. Nearly ten years now since his brother had become head of the family.

Were they supposed to join here more often? There wasn't really anyone to tell them how to, to teach them – not since mother died.

Hard to remember _they_ were now the oldest scions of the Black family, when they had once had so many.

"Why are we here, Sirius?" Narcissa's voice broke the silence. She was standing with her sister – her only one, now, in a way – near the circle. Sirius had his back turned to Regulus, doing – preparing? – something on the cold cut altar. Bellatrix glanced back at him briefly as the sound of his steps echoed across the worn stone floor, but then turned back to her sister.

"Sirius?" he asked calmly, taking up his place on the circle around the altar. "Can you explain?"

Finally, his brother took a step back. On the altar stood a stone.

It was an unremarkable thing. Pure jet black. It was smooth, though bumpy. A small little thing.

"Have you found something new? They never told us about it," Narcissa remarked.

"No," came the soft reply. His brother didn't break his gaze towards the stone.

"I've never..." Bellatrix frowned, a little more interested. "The magic is old. Older than most I've seen."

"Exactly." Sirius finally moved, taking up the final position in the circle. "But buried. I believe if I call to it, the magic might awaken."

"So we're just going to try and awaken a – Bellatrix?" Completely ignored by Sirius, Narcissa swung her head towards her sister, fed up. But she was alone. Bella too stood staring, entranced by the mysterious black stone. Her gaze never wavered.

"He's right," Bellatrix whispered. "Whatever this was, it was meant for us. Our parents died trying to protect it. The Light Side wants it. This is meant for us."

"Regulus?" Narcissa turned to him, her lips pursed in worry. "Please don't tell me you agree with them."

He didn't respond at first. Gazing at the stone, he tried to find what so entranced his brother and his cousin. But his inquisitive eyes were met only with silence, with darkness – the stone would yield none of its secrets to him.

Regulus looked back towards his cousin, then towards his brother.

"We should follow Sirius."

* * *

Out in the garden, Harry was hard at work with his usual chores when he saw the eyes watching him.

He stared right back at those dark pointed slits, curiosity rising in him.

"Harry," Tom said firmly. "Get away from the bush."

"I can't. Aunt Petunia said –"

"Harry, there's a snake there."

"But Aunt Petunia –"

"Harry –" the bush wobbled, and Harry could see the coils moving in and out. The scales were so pretty, and the brown and yellow tiles looked like those shapes they studied in Miss Patrick's class.

"Harry, _get away from that snake_ ," Tom said frantically, just as Harry was started to figure out how long it was. It was so cool how the coils kept going, and going, and –

"Nagini," Harry heard himself say, in a voice he couldn't control. But he could stare, and stare he did, right into the eyes that were now so close in front of him...

"Only my master sssspeaks to me..." the snake rasped, its tongue flitting about in the air. "You do not look like my massster..."

"Nagini, I am Slytherin's Heir," Harry heard himself reply. It was an odd feeling, being in one's own body but not, merely an observer in the air. _Was this what it felt like to Tom?_

"You sssmelled like the massster... I wasss tracking the massster..."

"Go to where you first met, Nagini. You'll meet the massster there," Tom said firmly. "Go."

Harry didn't hear Tom again as the snake peeled itself away, leaving Harry only to stare at the bush as he started to feel his own body again.

* * *

"I didn't feel anything." Bella finally said what they were all thinking. "I thought you said it would drain our magic?"

"I –" Sirius wobbled a bit, his feet unsteady on the ground. "I said it might. It should have. I –"

"Here, Sirius –" Regulus looped his brother's arm over his shoulder. He had been drained of magic, from the feel of it. _But why hadn't we?_ "Sirius, use the ring –"

They all staggered a little as Sirius did use it, but his brother was too stubborn to use it enough. Regulus could still feel his unsteadiness, better though it was.

"I'll be fine," Sirius said, in response to Bella's sharp look. "Did it work?"

Their cousin shrugged a little. "I can't feel anything right now. But it sent out – I don't know. I think I heard it call. A song, almost."

Sirius nodded. "It hasn't done that before."

"So not a complete failure, then," Narcissa remarked. "Regulus, are –"

"I'll put him in bed," he replied quickly. "Sirius, come on."

* * *

"How did you do that before?" Harry lay in his little bed, staring at the sharp angles of the ceiling above him. His feet were a little cold. He'd tried putting on more socks, but the draft just kept freezing them. And he hated curling up in bed.

"It's an old skill I have," Tom replied. "It's hard to learn. I don't know of any other wizard alive – well, there is one, I suppose."

Silence reigned in the room. Harry wished he could see the stars again. He had last week, those gleaming things in the sky, and he'd stared at them happily all night even though it had been so cold outside and the blanket Aunt Petunia had given him hadn't really helped.

"Harry?" Tom asked. Harry had the odd feeling that Tom was thinking. "Harry, can you go to the door for a second?"

Obedient as always – and the floor was a little warm anyways, so that was nice – Harry walked to the door to his very own cupboard.

"May I?"

Harry nodded, and there it was again, that odd sensation of flying in one's own body. But he could still feel –

The locks opened one by one as his hand raised. It was warm, the energy, and he could feel it – almost _see_ it – as the locks clicked and the little levers inside moved and shuffled and everything fell into place.

"Magic," Tom whispered in amazement, as Harry slid back into his own body. "You have _magic._ "

"Can we –" the locks gone, Harry thought of all the possibilities – that extra piece of chicken leftover in the fridge, the blanket that was so soft and hung over the armchair, the...

"Can we _leave_?"

"Yes," Tom replied. "Yes, we can leave. But..."

Harry waited nervously for whatever it was Tom was worried about. _Tom can come with me, can't he?_ He thought, his heart nearly stopping at the thought. It'd never occurred to him that Tom wouldn't be able to, but then again, he'd never –

"I'll be with you," said Tom firmly. "But we shouldn't leave tonight."

"Oh," Harry replied. He was sad, but having to stay here was still better than Tom –

"No, no, Harry," Tom said quickly. "I only meant that you shouldn't leave with no plan, with nowhere to go. I have an idea, but we'd have to wait to leave until tomorrow if it works."

"What do we do?" Harry asked, unfazed at the thought of waiting. "What is it?"

"Come back inside, and go over to that corner over there – the one with the dust – do you mind if I...?"

It was reflexive, at this point. Harry watched in wonder as his hand started to trace the strange shape, the lines emerging one by one as –

"Is it a skull?" he asked himself.

"It's a sign to my followers," Tom replied, in Harry's voice. "You'll see. Now –" they took a step back, and Harry's hand hovered over the piece.

Harry felt it that time, a sharp jolt as the draft picked up the dust and the air flew all around them. It was a strangest sensation, but Harry could have sworn that he felt someone – something? – answer.

"... Did it work?" Harry asked, hesitating.

"I think it did," Tom said funnily. "But come on. They'll be up soon. Go get some food."

"Is there anything you want to take?" Tom asked suddenly, as Harry opened the fridge. "Take some bread and make a sandwich, they'll notice the chicken," he added. "And it's cold anyways. A sandwich will taste better."

"Um..." Harry paused as he got some ham and put it neatly on the sandwich, lining up the corners just as Aunt Petunia had taught him to. There was a rattling upstairs, and with a small thought of dread –

"We have another two hours at least," Tom reassured him. "But clean it up and we'll go back to the cupboard."

* * *

"That's not good," Tom muttered. Aunt Petunia hadn't left for her appointment on time, and Dudley had said he was sick, but he'd snuck out of the house so it didn't matter. If Dudley was sick, Harry wasn't going to school – Aunt Petunia didn't want Harry showing up her little angel, after all.

"What isn't?" He'd wrestled the little sack out from behind the bush where he had squirreled it away, the books wrapped carefully in his only blanket. It'd been a little cold after that, but it was worth it.

"There's a ward," Tom announced. "And we'll be out of time soon. Come on – I think he'll be at that park where your cousin plays."

"What'll the ward do?" Harry asked, curious, as they set off. "We can still leave, right?"

"It'll..." Tom paused, not speaking as they passed through the rows of houses. No one ever paid attention to Harry. Finally, at last, they reached the empty field, the worn-down playthings that counted as a park for the neighborhood. "There."

"Where – oh."

Harry had never seen the man before. He was too... settled for the park. Uncomfortable. His clothes were too nice, his manner a little too self-assured.

"I... Tom?"

"His name is Sirius Black," Tom said firmly. "Go. He'll help you."

Tom fell silent as they crossed the park. In the empty space, Harry could hear his heart start to race. They were so close – _what if Dudley came back, what if Aunt Petunia crossed the park, what if_ –

" _Harry_ ," Tom whispered frantically. He'd almost bumped into the man.

Harry gulped. "Ex – excuse me – Mr. Black..." But the man didn't hear him. He took a deep breath and poked his back, jumping a little when the man turned towards him.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?" The man's face was cautious, cold.

"To – He said –" Was that Dudley's voice in the distance?

"Harry, you have to go _now_. Just tell him what I told you." Tom's voice was urgent, and Harry could hear his cousin coming in the distance –

"He said you were watching," Harry said, as he looked into the man's eyes. "He said to tell you to keep watch. Always watch."

"It's not - there was only one –" the man seemed to be smiling. Harry wanted to flinch when he touched his cheek, but he held himself in place. "Who are you?"

Tom hadn't told him what to say here.

"Harry Potter," Harry said simply. "He said you would help me."

* * *

"Rhia! Rhia – Regulus, what are you –"

"I felt you Apparate into your office," his brother replied, leaning languidly in the doorway. "And I thought to myself, what a strange thing. Sirius must have found something. But then I thought, well, Sirius probably won't tell little old me. So I figured I would just come up and see before you got a chance to hide whatever it was you found. And... here we are."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at his brother as he dusted off his robes slowly. _Could I – no, he's not that small_. He could feel the young boy rustle nervously behind him, just hidden next to his desk – _no._

"Fine. But this is a _family_ secret," he growled at his brother. _He was going to find out sooner or later_. "One that will get us all thrown in Azkaban. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Well, now you have to tell me," his brother said drily. "I think I'd still go to Azkaban either way. And look on the bright side, I hear it's great for weight loss and you've _really_ been packing on the pounds since you got married –"

Harry peeked around Sirius' robes.

Sirius could see his brother stiffen. "That... that is a child, Sirius."

"... Yes."

"Isn't having another child something you talk over with your wife? Not just drag home?" Regulus leaned languidly against the doorway.

"It's –"

"Reggy! Reggy, I – oh, hello." The blonde mop of hair peeked around the doorway before they could react. Sirius froze – he'd seen the boy, _but maybe – no, he wouldn't –_

"Draco, come back here," that silver-tongued voice called. "Ah, Regulus. I've been meaning to ask – is that Sirius?"

Severus Snape slipped into the doorway, one hand resting on Draco's shoulder, before they could stop him.

"You seem to have acquired a new child, Lord Black," Severus finally commented.

Sirius met his eyes steadily. "This is –"

But Severus had turned to look at the boy. "No need, Sirius." He let go of his charge, his voice as silky as always. "Be sure to tell your mother that we'll have our class tomorrow, Draco."

And just like that, he was gone.

* * *

"What was I supposed to do, Regulus? Kidnap him?"

"I – he's just going to run to Dumbledore now, you'll see – he _knew_ who the child was, anyone with eyes knows who that child is –"

"They haven't arrested us yet," Rhia interjected, turning from her place near the bannister. The voices of the two boys floated up from the hallway where they were playing. "Where did you even find him?"

"He was..." Sirius frowned. "I found him in a Muggle town. It was like he was waiting for me."

"Why would James Potter leave his child with _Muggles_?" Rhia asked quietly. "And it wasn't a coincidence you found him. Is there anything else?"

"He..." Sirius paused. He didn't know how to explain the strange things the boy had said. _What if the Dark Lord..._ "I don't know..."

The doorbell rang loudly, and he could see his brother's hands start to shake. "Is it –"

"It's only Severus," Sirius tried to reassure them. "He didn't bring anyone with him."

"Well." Rhia turned towards the stairs as the silence fell upon the house. "I'll go get him. It's too late to hide the boy, and I suppose we can still kidnap Severus before he leaves this time."

Numbly, Sirius followed her down, Regulus by his side.

"I thought Severus was on our side," his brother whispered. "But then with the trials – what Dumbledore said –"

"We'll just have to see," Sirius commented. "I don't know. But that was the point, Dumbledore was supposed to believe him. I just don't know if Dumbledore does really have reason to believe him."

"He's –"

"Sush," Rhia said as they passed the two children. Sirius could see how she steadied herself before she finally opened the door.

But Severus seemed to be in as much of a hurry as they were to get inside, and he brushed past Rhia without a word. "Come on," he whispered behind him.

Sirius called for the magic surrounding the house – he hadn't sensed someone else, but that didn't mean –

The cold wind let out a scream as Rhia slammed the door closed. Yet Severus didn't look like he was gearing up for a fight, even as Rhia loomed behind him.

Severus pursed his lips as he met Sirius' gaze, and finally answered the question. "You can trust me." Slowly, he took his wand out and put it on the table to the side of the door. "I'm just going to – don't attack me," he reminded Sirius, as he raised his hand, grasping at something behind him.

The invisibility cloak fell off in a gentle swoop.

"Andromeda?" Regulus stuttered. "What –"

"Lily," Sirius whispered, as the red head he'd thought dead stepped out from behind his long-lost cousin.


	3. The insolence of Office

" **The insolence of Office"**

 **August, 1991**

" – Third Year, yes, you'll want the – one second, dear, stop moving, I'll be there in _just a second_ –"

"Aren't all the students supposed to get robes with their house colors?" Harry asked Aunt Rhia, his quiet voice curious as he resisted the urge the tug off the pins digging into his shoulder.

"Mhmm," Rhia said absentmindedly, ruffling through the clothes on the rack. "You'll want some new winter robes too – it gets much more chilly up there –"

"The school robes change after you get sorted, Harry," Sirius interjected from his armchair, where he was comfortably ensconced with one of the latest Quidditch magazines.

"And I get Sorted...?"

"I told you, it's a secret," Tom muttered.

"It's a secret," Sirius repeated unknowingly. He grinned at Harry. "Sort of like an initiation. But nothing to worry about, it's relatively painless –"

"What do you mean, _relatively_ –"

"Mr. Steward! Here was are." Madame Malkins bustled over, measuring tapes and pins and scissors flying all around her. "Now – school robes, your pointed hat, winter robe – protective gloves, you'll want dragon hide – was there anything else, Mrs. Black?"

Rhia came up behind Harry, several robes draped over her arm. "We'll need one more winter robe, Madame Malkins. Velvet lining – he needs something formal," she said crisply. "And I'd like to get him these two, as well – here –"

"Yes, of course," the shopkeeper murmured as she inspected the samples. "I can use the measurements from his school robes, it shouldn't take long. Now –" She moved back to Harry. Rhia followed, cautious as always.

"A little small for his age, isn't he?" Madame Malkins said, eying Harry critically over her glasses as she adjusted the edge of the robe.

"He takes after his father that way," Rhia remarked blandly. "When will the robes be ready?"

"Oh, one week – plenty of time til school starts," Madame Malkins replied, stepping back to eye her handiwork. "What address shall I send them too?"

Harry didn't miss the look between Rhia and Sirius. "Would Friday be fine? I'll be picking something up anyways, I can just come by."

* * *

"You know how the Dark Lord's communicating with him, don't you?" Sirius commented, joining Lily on the porch. In Andromeda's garden, the three children were playing tag.

"I have some idea," she replied calmly, sipping the tea Rhia had made.

"But you won't tell me?"

"Now where's the fun in that?" Smiling, she turned to Sirius, leaning against the door. "Besides, if he wanted you to know, he'd have told Harry to tell you."

"Still," Sirius muttered in frustration.

"Relax. You're doing what he wants."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

Lily shrugged. "And if I did? What, take Harry back to his father? No. I think my view may have changed a bit."

"Is it that simple?"

"Yes, I suppose," Lily remarked, her voice dry. "He saved him. Dumbledore and Potter didn't. It's not too hard."

"If he hadn't attacked..."

"If they hadn't tried to bind your magic. If they hadn't tried to take mine. No one made them do that." She took another sip, looking at Sirius thoughtfully. "Have I passed your test yet?"

"Bella wanted to invite you to the meetings among those remaining a year ago," Sirius replied with a shrug. "But –"

"Dumbledore still has his spies. I know." She sighed in frustration. "I –"

"Bellatrix and I will brief you after," Sirius interrupted her. "The meetings aren't so important. And Dumbledore will find out if an unknown woman turns up. Though he hasn't questioned you yet, thankfully."

"That was a brilliant idea of Severus' – but I suppose it makes sense. The names are entered into the book magically and they can be changed by magic."

"How did you decide on the new name, anyways?"

"Steward? It was my mother's maiden name. Evans would have been too noticeable, what with his eyes. According to Severus, as long as it's a family name, it'll work – apparently, that's what happens with divorces and such."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "And since he was never recognized by James..."

"Interesting piece of magic, that. Do all the old wizarding families...?"

"I've never seen it used before, but I suppose in theory – actually, I think it's based off an old Muggle law of some sort. That the father is legally whomever accepts the child. When Potter gave Harry away, it constituted a rejection of sorts. Particularly given that Harry already had an older brother. Or," he amended, "some sort of brother."

Lily stared into her cup. "I still haven't been able to find his name," she said abruptly. "Bellatrix can't either. It just –" Lily bit her lip in frustration. "The girl who came – I never knew her name. All we know is that the birth was never registered and the parents died right after. But there was no mention of a raid – or if there was –"

Sirius shook his head. "There's a good chance only the people who went on the raid knew about it. We were winning at that point, but it was still chaos – friends would be there one day and gone the next. It could have been a sanctioned raid, but it's just as possible some of His followers decided to go rouge. He didn't encourage it, but the Dark Lord never quite stopped it either. It was a good way to spread fear – I –"

He bit his lip, the words of the prophecy just on his tongue. But he didn't need an excuse – thankfully. "They're watching us again. Two of them, just outside the hedge."

Lily tensed, but was the calm never left her voice. "We'll go to your house, then, for the night. It's the third time this week – do you think...?"

"They would have arrested you, or us by now if they had anything," Sirius said brusquely. "But still – likely an investigation. Again."

"Mum, can we go inside? It's starting to get cold."

"Harry," Lily said warmly, even as Sirius stiffened at the interruption. "I'm sorry, I hadn't noticed it starting to get dark. Sirius...?"

"I'll go get Fia," he said slowly. "Harry, stay here with your mother. You'll be staying with us tonight – we'll have a sleepover."

* * *

"Do you think they know?" Harry asked Tom suddenly. "About you, I mean," he added.

"Your mother might. But then again, she had a lot more clues to work with." Tom murmured. "Why?"

"I –" Harry fidgeted in his hiding place as the clock struck ten. "They didn't call you Tom, though. They said it was the Dark Lord speaking to me."

Tom didn't respond at first. "I go by many names," he said, finally replying. "Tom seemed easier to explain to a child."

"Why does my mother have more clues?"

"Because of what happened the night you were born."

"But you never told me the full story."

"I told you as much as you needed to know."

"That there was a war, and you –"

"I killed many. I attacked your home. Beyond that – there is a deeper magic at play. And not all of the story is mine to tell," Tom added.

"And you can't?"

"I'm not your mother," Tom said quietly. "And I would respect her wishes. Trust me, it's not a story for children, and –"

"But you're my dad," Harry argued. "Like Sirius is Uncle Sirius, and Aunt Rhia -"

"I'm not your father."

"But you could be." Harry's voice was so innocently sincere. "Why can't you be my dad? Draco and Fia have dads. I'm the only one who doesn't."

Tom didn't answer for a few moments. "You deserve a childhood, Harry," he finally said, his voice gentle. "Enjoy it while it lasts. Not everyone gets too."

Harry swallowed. "But -"

"Stop fidgeting," Tom interrupted, but he didn't scold. "Here they come."

The boy yawned as he nodded. "Just listen for me," he told the voice sleepily. "That's why you wanted to be here, isn't it?"

He had the odd sensation that Tom was hugging him in as he fell into the void.

* * *

With a flick of his hand, the fire jumped back to life. "Fia's asleep," Sirius commented to no one in particular. "Is Harry –"

"I put Harry in bed an hour ago," Lily answered. "We're all here. You warded the room yourself. Can we begin?"

"Do we have enough people?" Lucius muttered under his breath.

"We need everyone who's here," Sirius reminded him sharply as the group settled into the Black library. "Now – we'll –"

"We should discuss the prophecy again," Bellatrix interrupted. "It's clearly connected."

Snape lazily flicked his wand, and the ghostly voice of Sybill Trelawney interrupted the gathering.

 _"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

The crackling of the fire broke the silence that followed. "Does Dumbledore know we have the full prophecy?" Lily finally asked.

Severus shrugged. "Not to my knowledge. I believe he was under the impression I only heard the first part," he added. "I'd added a charm to the door so I could listen in when he found out I was just outside – before he threw me out. When he opened the door, the wards he'd placed on the room broke. I reported what I found out to the Dark Lord, of course."

The floor creaked as Bellatrix stood up from the table she'd been resting against. "But the mark –"

"Lord Voldemort marked him," Lily answered. "Charles Potter, or whatever they named that boy over there – he's not the so-called Chosen One. Harry is." As always, Lily didn't expand on her remarks.

"But how was Potter aware of the prophecy before –"

"He wasn't," Lily interrupted her. "But it wasn't too hard to guess. The Light Side needed a champion, and Dumbledore's too old now. It was clear James wouldn't do, but that didn't mean his child wouldn't. Charlus just thought he'd help the process along."

Lucius began to pace in front of the fire. "So we still don't really know anything," he finally muttered. He paused, and turned to Bellatrix. "Even the stone...?"

"The Light Side was looking for it," Bellatrix replied. "But there's nothing on it in our libraries. Severus – could you...?"

The Hogwarts professor shook his head. "I don't think a former Death Eater can ask about something like that and not be thrown into Azkaban," he commented drily. "Dumbledore may trust me, but not to that extent."

The fire crackled as silence took over the room.

"I don't like this," Regulus said at last. "I feel like a pig lined up for slaughter. We're watched, every day, and we still have no idea when or how the Dark Lord will return –"

"If," Narcissa murmured. "Don't you mean if? We don't even know if he's still alive." She raised her head to meet her cousin's stare as the group turned to her. "What? Why do you look so surprised? It had to have crossed your mind before. We don't know what happened to the Dark Lord that night – we don't even know what the others know. And all the meanwhile, the Light Side keeps watch over us. Arthur Weasley's still looking for an excuse to search our house. And when he does, he'll -"

"We can't hide everything," Lucius interrupted. "It has to go somewhere. If I take it out of the house, they'll find it even sooner."

"So let them find some," Rhia said. "We can't hide everything. And besides – that's not what we have to worry about hiding." She looked to Lily pointedly.

"You don't have to worry about that," replied Severus. "As long as they think Lily – Mrs. Steward, that is, lives with Dora, she'll be safe. Molly Weasley knows Dora took in a girl over the war – who's to say she didn't have a child?"

"But when they find out it's Lily Evans, back from the grave... even Dora would have known what she looked like. She won't be able to claim ignorance," Regulus pointed out. "Bellatrix, are you sure the disguise will hold?"

Bellatrix snorted, but refrained from her usual sarcasm. "I _am_ the best at them," she remarked pointedly. "And I didn't use magic. Lily's merely dyed her hair – we just need to get her out and about more, and it'll explain away any resemblance Harry might still have to James. Without the glasses, he looks more like her anyways. And they aren't even looking for him – have you heard of Charles Potter having a brother?"

"Bella's right," Narcissa admitted. "But should we be seen at Dora's less? They might not scrutinize her as much..."

Severus shook his head. "They don't trust Andromeda, what with her being a Black and Tonks being dead. It doesn't matter much if family visits, though if Crabbe gets it into his head to go, we might have a problem. Harry will be seen with Draco and Fia either way – if he's supposed to be a muggleborn or a halfblood, it'll give him a reason why. And besides, ever since Longbottom issued his grand pardon..." his voice drifted off under Bellatrix's pointed stare. "It _would_ help if you told us why he did that," Severus said pointedly.

"I didn't torture him," Bellatrix said coldly. "As I have said before, that's as much as you need to know. And if that's all – Narcissa? Lucius? It's getting late."

The harsh silence fell on the room as Bellatrix stormed out, and Severus followed quietly after Lucius and Narcissa.

"Has Bellatrix ever told you why Frank Longbottom did that?" Lily asked abruptly as the door slammed close. Next to the couches, the fire was starting to die. With a flick of her wand, Lily lit the lamps in the room.

Regulus shrugged, leaning back. "Not to –"

"She thinks they didn't kill her child. Or not immediately," Rhia said, amending her thought. "I don't know for sure what Longbottom said to her, but... I think she's tried to find what happened since? To be honest, none of us are sure of what she's up to. She lost her child, and her husband is condemned to madness in Azkaban. It's not a fate I would wish on any person. I wouldn't blame her if she went a little mad herself."

"Mhm." Lily stared into the fire. "I'm not sure why they wouldn't have killed the child immediately, though."

"Would there have been... I don't know. A ritual? Something? Any reason they would have kept the child?"

Lily shook her head. "I never saw a ritual that would call for a child. Charlus did leave the books out – I saw the binding they used on me, to keep me docile. Or that was supposed to, anyways. It was similar to..."

"Mine," Sirius interrupted, his voice cold. He was standing, turned towards the fire, but his fury was still clear. "It seems it's a favorite of Lord Potter. He got sloppy with you, though."

"Yes," Lily said quietly. "Thankfully."

"I'm going to head to bed, Sirius," Rhia broke in. "Regulus...?" Sirius' younger brother took the hint after a sharp look.

* * *

The silence fell upon the library once more. "Sirius?" she asked, well after the door had shut. _They should be in their rooms now._

"Lily." Sirius turned to her, his arms folded as he leaned on the fireplace. He closed his eyes for a second, seeking out the magic, and then they opened.

Lily followed him, their steps quiet, as he made his way over to the little alcove.

Gently, she lifted the heavy velvet curtain. They needn't have worried – Harry was fast asleep, his tiny body curled up on a blanket. Whatever magic lay in him didn't choose to show its face to them.

"So he is..."

"Yes." Lily didn't need to voice what Sirius had finally realized.

"Why do you –"

"He's protecting him," Lily murmured, sweeping the curling locks off of Harry's brow. "Besides, what would you have me do? Get rid of Him? Though I wish he hadn't dragged Harry out so late."

"Why did you let him stay if you knew he had snuck in?"

Lily paused. "He's going to Hogwarts in two weeks," she said finally. "If I want Harry protected, He needs to know what we know. I would have sent him overseas, but –"

Sirius shook his head. "Harry will be safer under their noses. Dumbledore always keeps tabs on the students who don't go to Hogwarts. This is the best chance to make sure he doesn't notice."

"He's still so light." She murmured, changing the subject as she picked him up and followed Sirius out of the library. "But at least they won't think he's related to Charles," Lily added, her voice grim.

* * *

"Aunt – Aunt Dorea?"

It was a lazy August afternoon, the sun resting just overhead. Not yet uncomfortably hot – but almost. And Diagon Alley was officially overwhelmed with Hogwarts students, even Charles, crawling in and out of the stores like –

"Aunt Dorea." Her nephew's voice broke through the buzz of the streets. "Charles!" She didn't need to turn her head to know that her nephew was beaming at the child. "Did Aunt Dorea get you your robes –"

" _Lady Potter_." As always, no one heard, or cared about her _proper_ title –

" - just to the Apothecary's, then!" James Potter held his son by his shoulder as he guided them to the store through the heavy crowds. "Did you keep the school list –"

"Nah," Charles broke in, his mouth full of the ice cream he'd insisted on. "But Aunt Dorea said –"

"They never put down everything the children need." Dorea answered for him. She settled her hand on Charles' right shoulder as they entered the damp shop. "Just get him the full set, it'll be better –"

"A First Year? At Hogwarts?" The man had popped up in front of them, stout and jolly in quite an innocent way. Behind him, the store was empty save for a brown-haired witch. "I have just the supplies you need!" He beamed as he knelt down to Charles' height. Her nephew took him in for a second, but turned back to his ice cream.

"The full set," James said loftily. "And a cauldron, of course," he added after a thought. "And vials – what was it the list said again, Charles?"

"Char – Charles Potter," the shopkeeper stuttered, as he rose again to face the Potters. "Of course." He gulped as he turned to James. "Um – but of course, I'll get him the vials right away. The cauldron and scales, though, um – they'll have to be purchased at Madam Potage's shop – or – or..." his voice died off under Dorea Potter's withering gaze. "We can get you all those items, of course?"

"And the full set!" James added with a beam.

"The full, ah – the full set... uh, first years are only required to have –"

"The full set." Her voice was cold as she stared down the shopkeeper. "My nephew is quite right. Charles will have the full set."

"Of course, Mrs – Mrs., ah, Potter," the shopkeeper stuttered. "It'll just be a few minutes – I just need to ring up – ah –" He turned this way and that, but then blinked in surprise. "It'll just be a few minutes," he said helplessly.

* * *

Lily let herself fade into the shadows as she left the store. It was – _there –_ she ducked into the side alley, pulling her cloak over her head. No one paid her any mind in the corners of Knockturn Alley.

She tried to slow down her breaths, but she couldn't stop – her heart was racing – her hands shaking –

"Mrs. Steward," a voice said quietly.

Her robe hid her face, but Bellatrix Black could never truly hide herself.

"I – ah... Bel –"

"Not here." Bellatrix grabbed her arm in a tight grip, but Lily was still lost in her daze. Numbly, she let herself be dragged into the nearest store. The little bell rang emptily as they were swept in by the harsh wind that ran through Knockturn Alley, but it died with a whistle as the door slammed shut behind them.

The store was one of those little oddities that dotted Knockturn Alley and catered to the eccentric with a taste towards the illegal. She recognized some of the ingredients immediately – horn of Bicorn, Erumpet bone, Acromentula venom, and -

"Basilisk skin." Bellatrix answered Lily's unspoken question. "You've probably never –"

"I saw one once," Lily replied, lost in thought. "It'll block the effects of most poisons. Bring out the beneficial affects." It must have been years old, at the least – there hadn't been any known sightings of Basilisks for decades – but it was as vivid as if it had been only been sitting there a day. Even in the dark light of the cloudy glass case – _what a beautiful thing, even if from such a dangerous -_

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix broke her concentration. "You were upset."

She didn't answer.

"Fine. We can talk about more of the ingredients, if you want, or –"

"I saw him." Lily met her gaze squarely. Her heart began to race again. "Potter – they – James. His aunt. And Charles – stop. I don't need a hug." She waved off her gesture, and leaned against the rickety wooden table that held more potions books.

Bellatrix walked past her to consider one of the ingredients in a case by the wall. "I wasn't planning on giving you one," she said coldly from over her shoulder. "Why would you need a hug?"

"I –"

"So why were you upset?"

"I just didn't expect to see him," she replied, flustered. "I didn't... I don't know. I just thought I – well, that I wouldn't."

"That was silly of you. You should always be prepared." Bellatrix turned towards Lily again, cocking her head. "What happened to you? They used to call you the brightest witch of our generation – completely ignoring me, of course, but that's not really the point – and now you – oh, I don't know. _Useless_." Her dark eyes glittered with amusement.

"I'm not –" Her eyes sparked with anger. "I'm not useless. I just –" The cases in the room had started to rattle, but neither witch noticed.

"You froze. What would you have done if they had seen you? Recognized you? What – going by some silly assumed name – Joanna Steward – you think that would have protected you?" Bellatrix stalked towards her and sneered. "And what would Harry have done then? As soon as they found out about you, it would have led them straight to your precious son. And then they would have taken him, straight into that lion's den –"

"You think I don't know that?" Lily's voice snarled with rage, and the buzz in the store grew louder. "Every day I see them, every day as I deliver my potions. They're there, watching the house – waiting for one of you to slip up. Except you don't have to. They're taking my child off to Hogwarts – I got him back for two years, and now they get to steal him away again. Dumbledore and Potter and all those so-called Light wizards and witches get to take my child away from me. They're taking my Harry, and there's nothing I can do about it."

But the room calmed as Bellatrix stood there, watching the other witch. "I only got my baby for a second," she said finally.

Lily flinched. "It's not a –"

"Not a what? A competition?" Bellatrix watched her coldly through narrowed eyes. "It is. But the difference between you and me is – you're letting them win. And I'll go to my grave before I ever give up." She glided over to the dark passage leading out of the room. "Come."

"I haven't given up –"

"So prove it. Now, I thought someone in the Black family must have given me up to the Light Side," Bellatrix commented. Lily sighed, but followed the older witch blindly into the hall. "They were the only ones who knew, or were capable of knowing –"

"They wouldn't," Lily protested. "None of them –"

"But you've given me an idea now," Bellatrix continued, ignoring the Gryffindor. "Potter's aunt – do you know that she's actually a Black?"

"I – well, I knew she was Dora's aunt, but I didn't –" Lily grasped for the walls without success as her eyes only slowly adjusted.

Lily nearly slammed into the Slytherin as Bellatrix stopped suddenly in the passageway. "Here we are," Bellatrix announced. With a tap of her wand, the wall fell away as the candle lit room revealed itself. "She's technically our great-aunt," Bellatrix added. "Mother never spoke of her, though – probably for good reason. I've never met Aunt Dorea, but Dora said she was a little... odd."

"She was always sweet to me," Lily murmured, as she took in the room from her place behind Bellatrix. It wasn't very big, and resembled a cave more than anything else. A worn woven carpet lay in front of the fireplace at the other end of the room; on it stood a ramshackle little wooden table and a few armchairs scattered around. Just opposite of them was a tiny little door carved in to – was that a dirt wall?

"Yes, I'm sure she was just a dear," Bellatrix said drily. "Marius! Where is – Marius."

The armchair that began to move was turned towards the fire. Lily tensed – she hadn't noticed the presence in the room before now, but then again, she hadn't come into contact with one ever since Hogwarts. Slowly, the chair began to shift back.

Lily could hear him behind the table before she saw him. Marius was short, like most of his kind, and dressed impeccably in a dark gray and blue three-piece suit. His fingers – those long, spider's fingers – ran over the table as he walked towards them, his huge, unblinking eyes staring at the intruders.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. Or have you discarded that name now?" the goblin murmured, a bit unkindly. He turned to Lily. "And you are –"

"Mrs. Steward," Bellatrix said smoothly. "We're here to discuss a piece you made for my grandmother."

Marius ignored her. "Steward – now that's a curious name there."

"My – my mother's." Lily had the lie on the tip of her tongue, but –

The goblin pursed his lips, staring at her. Lily shifted uncomfortably from his gaze. "They always try to lie to me," he said finally. He turned back to Bellatrix. "You may take a seat. You've come about the Star Clock."

Bellatrix huffed, but the two witches followed him the chairs. With a snap of his fingers, a dusty leather book fell with a smash onto the table. Lily jumped, more so than Bellatrix, but the goblin ignored them both. With another snap – and an huff of dust into the air – the book fell open.

"Here," Marius said blandly. "The Star Clock. Your grandmother commissioned it at the start of the Muggle War, in 1912." He pointed to a few of the hand-drawn diagrams on the sharp, aged pages. As Lily glanced over them, she noticed notes written in a spindly handwriting, but she'd never learned Gobbledegook.

"Wouldn't it just have been for the family members at the time?" Lily asked, more out of curiosity as she tried to understand the strange device. It looked like a chart of fates, but the diagrams seemed to indicate it could be read in real time. Bellatrix was lost in thought as she traced through the diagrams, and Lily could see the cogs spinning furiously in her head.

Marius seemed genuinely upset by the question. "Of course not," he huffed. "It shows the user's family – I never make them for one person, though every witch and wizard that comes here seems to think that," he added. "My work is the best – the very best –"

"Here," Bellatrix broke in. "This piece here –"

Marius glanced to where her finger pointed. "That particular – ah. Yes. Your grandmother wanted something a little... different. To fit the family's peculiar naming habits." Bellatrix didn't seem to notice the slight. "It can show if a female family member is expecting," he said finally, glancing over the notes. "It's a bit hard to read, but –"

"Ah, indeed." Bellatrix murmured. "Thank you, Marius."

Marius didn't press Bellatrix to explain herself. "Was there anything else you needed?" He settled back into his armchair, pursing his lips as he watched the two witches carefully.

"A few ingredients," she answered. "But nothing... extraordinary."

Marius waved her off. "You know how it works." Bellatrix nodded, and started to walk out. Lily began to follow, but then she heard the goblin shift in his chair.

"Oh, and Mrs. Evans?" Lily stiffened at the goblin's chilling tone. "Control your magic. You nearly blew up my store, and that Erumpet bone was particularly painful to get."

* * *

The gardens at Malfoy Manor were buzzing with excitement as the guests weaved in and out of the crowds. There hadn't been a gathering of this sort since they were winning the war, and it showed. Friends – and even family – who hadn't seen each other for a decade or more mixed freely once more in the gentle afternoon sunlight. The flowers had bloomed brilliantly, thanks to the calm August weather, and even the strange cold that had come those last few weeks hadn't managed to kill them off. But even with the calm... a few still looked to the gates now and then, expecting the aurors to come storming in.

"That's Crabbe," Tom muttered. "Mostly useless on his own, but useless can be helpful. That's probably his son – oh, and there's Goyle. A bit of a brute. The sons look like they take after their fathers."

From the huge window on the second story of the Manor, Harry could see each of the guests quite well. "Who's that one?" His voice was curious as he pointed out the dark haired wizard with the looming presence.

"I don't –" Tom paused. "Ah." A woman suddenly approached the man and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek; Harry rolled his eyes. "It looks like Madame Zabini has found herself a new husband. And that looks like her son next to her. You're supposed to be down there, you know," he added. "I've introduced you to everyone at the party by now – surely it's not still scary."

"I'm not scared," Harry growled. "I just – well, why do I even need to go down?" He changed tactics swiftly. "Draco's much better at this than I am, and besides, it's his party. And won't it be better if no one asks about me? That's what Mum and Uncle Sirius are always talking about, anyways. "

Tom ignored his protests. "It's fine to be nervous," he said, just a bit kindly. That made Harry more nervous, if possible – Tom was rarely kind outright. "But no one is going to hurt you," he pointed out. "They're all friends with the Malfoys. You're just one more child. And you'll meet them all anyways. Hogwarts starts in a week."

"In Slytherin," Harry said quietly. "I'll meet them in Slytherin, you mean."

"They'll likely be in Slytherin, yes," Tom replied. "One or two might be in Ravenclaw."

Harry didn't reply at first, but slouched against the curtains as his hand traced nonsensical designs on the windowpane. The nice robes that his Mum had picked out were probably getting wrinkled from sitting on the floor, but... "What if I'm not in Slytherin?" He finally broke the silence. "What if I'm not with any of them, or Draco, or – or Fia?"

Tom didn't reply at first either. "Did you know Sirius was in Gryffindor?" he asked calmly.

Harry frowned as he racked his brain. "No – he was in Slytherin. He and Aunt Bella were telling us about Slytherin."

"No. He was sorted into – well, it's a long story, but he was first in Gryffindor. And Nymphadora's in Hufflepuff," he pointed out. "Your mother was in Gryffindor. And I know many wizards and witches who weren't sorted into Slytherin – or Ravenclaw, for that matter."

"... Like who?"

Harry could feel Tom frowning. "Like your Moth – that isn't the point." Tom nearly growled. "The point is, any house would be lucky to have you, and you should stop being so nervous. And stop listening to Draco blather on. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"But everyone else seems to like Slytherin the best –"

"Because you're surrounded by Slytherins," Tom interrupted. "If you were surrounded by Gryffindors, they'd say Gryffindor was the best."

"But what do you think? You think Slytherin is the best, don't you?" It was at moments like these that Harry wished desperately Tom was real – real, and just – just _there_.

Like always, Tom seemed to sense Harry's quiet despair. "I'll still be with you, no matter where you go," he reminded him gently. "Even Gryffin – what was that?"

Harry scrambled to his feet as the door to the library started to jingle. It finally squeaked open, just a bit, and the voices tumbled in from the hallway outside –

" _Move_ ," Tom hissed. "There – over there, there's a closet," he added, as Harry jumped out of his freeze and started to tumble towards a hiding spot. "Over – keep going – it's – there you go." Harry jumped into the hiding spot just in time as his mother and Sirius' voices spilled into the room. "Whenever you have a chance, always listen in," Tom advised quietly. "You'll learn more – Harry?"

The door seemed to close as quickly as it had opened, and the darkness swelled up around him. He couldn't see, but he could feel – and everything was so close – the walls – the door – everything was closing in, closing in on him. Harry's heart started to bolt, seemed to nearly jump out of his chest. He tried to slam his eyes shut, tried to block out the cold, the dark, but it didn't work, he could feel it – feel everything – feel everything just falling in on him – and the hunger, the sweats, the nightmares all came rushing –

" _Harry_ ," the voice hissed in fright. The light suddenly flooded all around him, but he still couldn't – "What are you doing in here?"

His eyes were still sown shut, but even in the haze he could feel his mother pick him up.

"Give us a moment, Sirius," the voice murmured. "He's not good in – damn Petunia –" It sounded like more voices, but – then they left, and he was curled up, safe.

Blinking, he started to open his eyes. In the sunlight he could have sworn he saw those familiar strands of red hair he just barely remembered, but he blinked again, and it was gone. "Mum?"

"Shush," his mother whispered, as she curled her fingers in his hair. They were sitting by one of the fireplaces, and even in the summer breeze, the fire seemed comfortably warm. "You're going to be fine," she murmured. "Are you feeling a bit better?" she asked slowly.

He nestled into her embrace, but didn't answer as he stared out the windows just beyond them. "I don't want to go to Hogwarts," he muttered, not answering her. "Do I have to? You don't want me to go either," he added.

"Harry, I –" Lily stopped. Harry glanced up at his mother. She seemed worried, more so than normal. "You need to go to Hogwarts." Her tone changed suddenly. "You need to go. You need to learn from their teachers. You need to meet the students there."

"But I –"

"Stop it, Harry," his mother said firmly. She'd never seemed this serious about the school in the past as she met his gaze unflinchingly. "It's what's best for you." She drew him in to a fierce hug. "I'll write to you every day," she promised. "But you have to promise me – try your best there. Work hard. Will you promise me that?"

"Mum, I... " Harry's voice was muffled as he hugged her back just as fiercely. "But what if I'm not in the right house?" he asked quietly, nervous for her reaction.

Lily drew him back to look at him, but then burst into sudden laughter. "Oh, Harry." She tugged him back into a hug with a smile and a kiss on his head. "Any house that makes you happy, makes me happy too."

"I won't leave you, Harry." Tom promised.

Harry smiled, his heart glowing as he stood there with his family.


	4. And the spurns

"And the spurns"

"Albus," the wandmaker said slowly, the rickety ladder creaking below his feet as he nudged the box back into place.

"Garrick," the Headmaster of Hogwarts said cheerfully.

Slowly, he turned and made his way down the ladder, surveying the scene of destruction around them. He could always clean it up with a wave of his wand, of course, but there was something about doing it all by hand to calm the mind. And no more first years to fit, either...

"Garrick," Albus repeated.

"Oh - yes." The wandmaker shook his head, making his way back to the front of the shop where the older wizard was waiting. "A surprise, Albus. I didn't realize you would be in London today."

Albus smiled, a sparkle in his eye. "I always like to see the first years in Diagon Alley," he told him jovially.

"Mm. Unfortunate, that you'll be missing most of them," Garrick told him, wiping off the counter.

"There's always next year."

"May I help you with something in particular?" Garrick continued his way around the shop, taking care not to engage in Albus' old annoying trick of the eyes.

"Ah - yes, I suppose so... I believe young Mr. Potter was recently in here."

"He was." Garrick eyed Mr. Robinson, who was curled up in his normal spot under the counter. The cat scowled at the reminder of the boy who'd nearly blown his tail full off... no, he wasn't quite sure it'd been the wand, either...

"And he received his wand," Albus continued, pressing harder.

"Yes, he did." The bones creaked in his knees as he placed the wands back into the wand boxes, stacking them one by one on the counter. Maybe he should have taken on his nephew for the summer... but no, the boy should have one more summer of freedom before starting in the family business.

"A core of dragonstring, James said."

"Mhm?" Garrick paused for a moment. "Yes, with chestnut... 12 inches, unyielding."

"Strange." Albus didn't speak for a moment. "I would have thought he would have found his match in your old holly wand..."

The wandmaker didn't rise to meet the headmaster's invisible challenge. "The wand chooses the wizard," he said blandly.

The image popped into his mind then, of the small, dark-haired boy in the shop, no parents with him, just an unusual knowledge of the Wizarding World. Just like the other one. Curiously so... but an innocence, a happiness, where the other had only held a cynical hate.

"So the holly wand remains," Albus said, no small amount disappointment clear.

"It was a wand well suited to him," Garrick informed the headmaster. "Quite well. He seemed very pleased."

"Thank you, Ollivander." Ollivander. It was always Ollivander...

"Of course, headmaster."

No, he hadn't said anything to the boy... and he didn't see any reason to say something to Albus Dumbledore, either.

* * *

 _He was stuck in the darkness again. The cold rushing in, grabbing at him. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, stuck in the nothingness of the void –_

" _Harry!"_

 _Tom's voice, but he couldn't reach out. Tom wasn't there. No one was there – the door had shut, the lock clicked into place – Tom? Tom?_

" _HARRY!"_

"HARRY! Harry, _wake uuuuuppppp_." Light burst painfully into his room as Harry woke with a jolt. Groaning, he burrowed his head deeper in the pillows as he tried to remember what had happened. It was the tenth – eleventh? – time he'd had that dream. And every time, when they were so close – when the _she_ was about to turn around –

"Harrrrryyyyyyy!" With a mad giggle, the nine year old jumped onto his bed and right on to – well, Harry. "Come on! You gotta wake – ow!" The girl yelped as she fell back onto the end of the bed, thrown off by her would-be victim.

"That's what you get for waking me up," he growled, as he emerged from the pillows with wild hair and glowering eyes. "And now –" he grabbed a pillow, his weapon of choice, and started to inch towards the girl, whose eyes had started to go wide and whimper -"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Harry added, concerned.

Fia stuck her tongue out at him. "Not a chance!" she said in her singsong voice, and bounced straight off the bed. "You gotta get up for Hogwarts!" she yelled back at him as she threw more of the curtains open wide. "Harry's going to Hogwarts, Harry's going to Hogwarts –"

The Harry in question fell back into the bed with a groan. "It's not even – it can't even be seven yet," he protested. Fia was too far away to hear, or even care. Pancakes were her favorite breakfast, and the delicious smell was even tempting Harry out of bed...

"She's right," Sirius grinned ruefully, leaning against the doorway as he looked about at the destruction his only daughter had wrought in the bedroom. "You should come down and get some breakfast. Your trunk's downstairs already – we have to leave soon." With a flick of his hand, the room slowly returned to its normal state. "You're forgiven from chores, since you're leaving – but, ah, just – don't tell your mother, alright? May I sit?" He motioned at the end of the crumpled bed.

Yawning, Harry nodded and slid out of the bed to go sit next to the wizard. Tom wasn't quite awake yet either, but the early morning silence was comfortable. He didn't need someone else badgering him –

"I can still hear you, you know," Tom murmured drily. Harry was going to respond when he saw Sirius looking at him strangely, and he realized he'd been standing there for a second to long.

"Here." Sirius scooted to the side, and Harry climbed up next to him. "I – well, ah – there's – I suppose I should just show you," he said abruptly. His hand reached into the depths of his robes and fished out – a mirror? "My family used these during the war sometimes, to keep in touch with each other," Sirius explained as Harry examined the hand mirror curiously, tilting it this way and that. He'd never seen anything like it – it was silver, but so delicate and fragile that -

"Goblin-made," Tom commented in his head.

"I have one," added Sirius. "If you ever have any problems – anything with school, or other students, or you just want to talk - you can always call me. Just – here -" his hand covered Harry's for a second, adjusting his grip. If he noticed Harry stiffen, he didn't comment. "There," he said finally. "All you have to do is say my name, and mine will activate. I've given your mother one as well. There's only three of the mirrors, but now you can talk to either of us anytime you wish – Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry was staring at the mirror, his hand clenched around it, his face grounded in a frown. _He'll take it away if you remind him_ , the voice in his head taunted him. _He's just forgotten. If you remind him_ – but – _there's only three mirrors. Why should you get one?_

"What about –" The thought of losing the mirror made him want to cry. He could see his mother, he could see Sirius anytime now, but... "What about when Fia goes?" The words tumbled out.

"I have my ways of keeping an eye on Iphigenia when she goes to Hogwarts," Sirius replied calmly, as he watched Harry hold onto the mirror for dear life. He hadn't even thought of the mirrors until his wife told him he should give them to Harry. Seeing Harry so fearful when he thought his lifeline might be taken away, he knew it'd been one of the better decisions of his life. Slowly, he put his arm around the boy and pulled him closer.

This time, Harry relaxed.

"Make sure you call us in private," Sirius added, as the boy stared into the mirror. "And you should come downstairs – Aunt Rhia made pancakes for you." As they stood up, Sirius could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile on the Harry's face, but he'd masked it by the time they made it to the stairs and went down to the kitchen.

"See, I told you he was up," Fia complained, as she tried to balance on her stool to look at the pancakes bubbling. "Now can I have –"

" _May I have_ , Fia." Rhia scolded her. "And yes, you may have one, since you woke Harry up." With a flick of her wand, the pancake landed on Fia's plate, and the dark-haired girl dug in with a beam.

"Is Mum up?" Harry asked as he brought his plate to Aunt Rhia.

"Hey, he got two pancakes!" Fia protested in between bites.

"That's because he's leaving, and you've got another year of pancakes," Rhia Black said calmly, but grinned at Harry when her daughter couldn't see her. "Your mother will be down in a second," she added. "Fia, finish up – you have to say goodbye to Harry, they'll be leaving soon."

* * *

Harry could feel his mother frown as she knelt down to fidget with his cloak. "Don't mess that up now," she warned him, her face hidden under the hood. "I –"

"What are they doing, over there?" Harry interrupted her, too excited to pay close attention to what his mother was saying. They were standing at the far end of the train tracks, right around the corner from the floo. They could've just apparated, but –

"You can't apparate right into the station. Do you know how big of a mess that would cause?" muttered Tom. He'd been upset ever since Fia's wake up call, but Harry couldn't understand why –

"I can still hear you," his voice pointed out.

"- do you mean, Harry – oh, them?" His mother motioned at the chattering figures emerging from the fog across the way. "There's another entrance from the Muggle world. Most everyone uses it – it's a fun experience, but it can get a little... hectic." Her voice trailed off. She always did that when she got worried.

"He should get on the train," Sirius murmured. He was standing to the side, his hood drawn over his head – watching the other students and their families, Harry realized. "Everyone else is starting to board. We'll be noticed soon."

"Give me a second," his mother muttered back. "Harry." Lily smiled deeply at her son, even as her eyes betrayed her nervousness. As she drew him into a hug, Harry had a vague flash of what had been – red hair, not black, surrounding him with warmth – but it disappeared just as soon as it came. "You can talk to me anytime," she murmured in his ear, and all of a sudden he wanted to beg her to take him back, take him back anywhere but here – But.

"Of course, mum," he whispered back, hugging her just as tightly.

Finally, she pulled back and stood up gracefully. Her hand slipped onto his cheek, guiding his eyes to up to face hers. Harry blinked, confused, but his mother simply smiled, shook her head, and gave him a gentle goodbye kiss on his head.

"We're ready," she said quietly to Sirius, her hand guiding Harry towards his trunk. "Sirius – Harry –"

"Remember what I told you," Sirius told Harry quickly. The fog was beginning to fade as the students began to board. "Only in private. Don't get – that's the whistle –"

Harry let himself be pushed forward by the crowd as his mother let go. He made it onboard just as the last students were boarding.

Then – ever so slowly – the train began to push forward.

* * *

"Just go to one of the empty cabins," Tom advised, still quiet. But that was easy for him to say – there _weren't_ any empty cabins, at least, not that Harry could see. Every door was closed shut, and he could hear the giggling students just behind them. His trunk was starting to get heavy too, even with the wheels and the charm to lighten it –

"Are you looking for a place to sit?" the voice asked abruptly. Harry stopped where he was. "Over here," she said, right behind him. He whipped his head around.

The girl was a first-year, just like him, with wild, bushy hair and an unnaturally good posture. Tall, too – at least three inches taller than Harry. Maybe four or five. He was always short next to the other kids. Her gleaming, piercing eyes met his gaze; for a second, Harry had the oddest feeling that he'd met her before. "Come on, get in," she told him, calling him back to reality. "You're blocking the aisle."

With a woof, the door slammed shut quickly behind them. She waited for him to get settled, and then – " _I'm_ Hermione Granger," she announced, holding out her hand. "And – you are?"

"Harry Steward," replied Harry quickly, whipping out his hand to meet hers. He shrunk a little under her stern gaze. She reminded him of his mother, or Aunt Andromeda, when they got mad – a blazing fire, crushing all in its path. "So, uh –" he sat down neatly into the corner of the cabin. Next to them, the winds rushed past as the train flew forward to the north. "I'm a – I'm a halfblood," he added, when she seemed puzzled. But that just seemed to confuse her further.

"What's a –"

Suddenly, the door slammed open. " _Harry_? I've been looking for you everywhere – oh." The blonde-haired boy frowned when he realized they had company, but took the seat next to Harry anyways and made himself comfortable. "How'd you end up here?" he asked, quizzically.

The girl – Hermione, Harry reminded himself – stretched out her hand politely. "Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you." Her guileless eyes betrayed her ignorance at whom she was introducing herself to – a muggleborn, Harry realized.

Draco frowned for a second, but just before Harry was going to nudge him not to be rude, he met her halfway. "Draco. Draco Malfoy, the pleasure is mine." He cocked his head slightly, trying to place her. "You're not from the Wizarding World, are you?"

Hermione smiled naively and shrugged. "Was it that obvious? My parents were so proud when I got the letter – I mean, when Professor McGonnagall explained it all, of course. I've been reading all about Hogwarts ever since then – I know all about the houses, and the classes, and the history –"

"Surely not _all_ , though," Draco broke in calmly, staring her down with his cold gaze. Harry looked at him nervously. Was he angry? He'd never seen his friend angry before.

"Don't say anything, Harry. Let her answer him," Tom said quickly. It was only his guiding hand that kept Harry back.

"I –" Hermione met Draco's gaze unwaveringly. Harry could see her thinking through her next works carefully. "Not everything, obviously," she finally replied. "But I'd like to learn."

Harry glanced between the two first years. But then Draco relaxed suddenly. "So what class are you most excited for?" he asked, his voice curious. "I've learnt some of the basics, of course – growing up here – but I think my favorite will be Potions."

Hermione shook her head. "Potions will be interesting – but Charms! There's so many endless possibilities. I was just reading the third level of _The Standard Book of Spells_ – I know they only said to get the first level, but you never know what might be useful –"

"Oh, of course," Draco agreed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The booklists are only recommendations. You can't just limit yourselves to them – what about you, Harry?"

Harry could only remember how to close his mouth at the moment from gaping at the two bookworms. _The third level?_

"I told you to read ahead." Tom's voice was back to its normal smugness.

"I – ah – Defense Against the Dark Arts, probably...?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, calling his bluff. "Ignore him," he declared loftily to Hermione, turning back to her. "He prefers flying to learning _useful_ things."

"I do not –" But his protest fell on deaf ears as the two bookworms started to debate the books they'd read. Harry fell back into his seat with a huff and stared out the window instead. It was still early afternoon. Overhead, the sun shone brightly on the rolling hills as the train roared past the empty countryside.

"You know, now would be a good time to read ahead." Harry could tell Tom was smirking, and ignored him. His thoughts were spinning around left and right in his mind. What would the Sorting be like? Draco, friends with a muggleborn? Though technically, wasn't Harry's mother a – actually, Harry didn't know that much about his mother's family. She never really talked about them. Harry let his head fall against the buzzing wall of the train as he surveyed the landscape outside.

All of a sudden, shouts broke the peaceful banter in the cabin. Harry startled suddenly in his seat at the commotion – was it coming from the hallway? He stood up, curious. His two companions hadn't noticed as they continued their hearty debate.

Silently, he moved towards the doorway, but the noise of the door opening grabbed Draco's attention. "Harry – what are you –" Draco stood quickly, his curiosity raised by the yelling. None of them could tell what was going on. "Close the door," he demanded. "We should probably stay out of whatever it is." Draco wasn't particularly convincing as he strained closer, trying to hear what was going on.

"Shush," Hermione ordered Draco as she came over. She turned to the doorway. "Harry, crack it open just a bit more? Geez, you'd think it was a bunch of pigs squealing out there –"

Suddenly, a dark figure flew past the crack of the door, and the voices died off. A second after, they heard her gasp in pain.

" _WHAT_ is going on here?" This person seemed new, and his voice got louder as he stormed towards the cabins. "Ronald – Charles – what is the meaning of all this shouting?"

"Close the door," Draco ordered suddenly. Harry glanced back; his face seemed to be paler than usual.

"But –"

"Close it _now_ –"

It was too late. They'd clearly missed part of the conversation, but then they head the girl's voice cutting through the air, clear as day. " - they saw it all, Prefect – they can tell you what happened –" Harry had a bad feeling she meant them.

The door flew open with a bang, and the trio jumped.

The Prefect in question was a lanky red-head. He'd drawn himself up to twice his height as he marched over to the trio, the golden badge gleaming brightly on his chest. Harry fidgeted in his shoes. Just to his side, the girl – she must have been the one who'd flown past – seemed to be dusting off her robe. Why would – had someone pushed her?

"What did you see?" The redhead demanded. Draco was about to reply, but he was beaten to the punch.

"They didn't see a thing!" The voice came from their right. Harry stepped closer to the hallway as the Prefect was distracted. "Why are you even asking them? She's just lying –"

"Am not," the girl rebutted. "You didn't have to shove me –"

" - We didn't shove her, Percy! That's what she gets for bothering us." It was two boys, first years by their height. The redhead was the one complaining. The boy next to him merely rolled his eyes, his arms crossed in an angry huff as he slouched against the wall. "The cabin was clearly taken –"

"It wasn't full," the girl interjected.

"- by the _Chosen One_." He glared at the girl petulantly.

"One, not two," the girl quipped.

"You little –" But the redhead didn't finish that thought before the Prefect interrupted.

"I'm not - what did you see?" Percy demanded, turning back to the trio. He had apparently forgotten that they'd just heard what had happened.

" _Amateur_ ," commented Tom.

"They shoved her," Harry said quickly. Draco backed him up.

"And you –"

"Oh, yes," Hermione added breezily, her eyes wide. "Those two louts shoved her."

Percy pursed his lips as he looked from one group to the other. "Get back in your cabins, all of you," he finally ordered. "I don't want to hear any more complaints about noise." He trounced off before he could hear the girl ask exactly which cabin she was supposed to get back into. As soon as he left, all of the first years walked out into the hallway, the two boys glaring at them angrily and trying their best to look menacing.

"Malfoy. Slytherins," the red headed first year whined in disgust down the hallway. "Figures. The whole lot of you should be kicked out of Hogwarts. You couldn't have seen a thing. I can't believe Percy actually _believed_ you."

"Who says we'll be in Slytherin, anyways?" Hermione demanded with outrage, before the others could reply. "And why do you care if we are?" she added, realizing the inadvertent insult.

The other boy finally spoke. "I mean, if they want you, they're welcome to it," he said with a snort, eying her. " _We_ don't want a girl like you."

"I –" Hermione flustered, her cheeks a bright red. "Go to – oh, shove it!" She went back into the cabin angrily. "Boys!" she called back in an afterthought. "And you." She poked her head back out to motion to the girl.

"Gladly." The girl glided gracefully into the open door. "And don't worry, girls like us don't want _boys like you_ ," she threw back over her shoulder.

"The nerve of them – who was that?" Hermione demanded. She sat down with a huff, her cheeks red with anger.

"Weasleys." Draco left it at that. By his tone, it did seem to explain everything though. "Oh, and Charles Potter," he added dismissively.

"How do you know –"

"Chosen One. Unless there's another Chosen One floating around somewhere?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a squeak. "Isn't he – you mean – the one who defeated –"

Draco settled back into his seat and shrugged. "Supposedly. Honestly, for the Chosen One, you'd think he'd be more... I don't know, special?"

" _Oh_." Her eyes widened. "And –"

The other girl chuckled. "You told the Chosen One to, quote, shove it," she reminded Hermione. She took up the seat next to the door that was opposite Draco. "Oh, please," she added, at Hermione's look. "He's a prick. You shouldn't care about insulting him –"

"Oh, I don't care about insulting him," Hermione broke in, her voice firm. "That arse is going to learn not to insult _me_. What was your name, anyways?" Harry got a little nervous at the gleam in her eyes, even as they switched over to a safer topic than how Hermione was going to make the two boys rue the day they insulted her forevermore.

"Tracey – Tracey Davis." The girls tossed her hair over her shoulder casually. She was one of those people that were entirely sure of themselves and their place in the world, and she knew it. "Don't bother trying to remember my family, Malfoy," she added, glancing over at Draco. "My parents adopted me after the war, so it doesn't matter anyhow. And who are the two of you?"

"Adopted," Tom muttered. "Now that's strange. Though the Davises were always a peculiar bunch..."

"Harry Steward, and that's Hermione Granger," Harry replied, ignoring Tom's odd comment. "And –"

"What did they mean, _we_ don't want a girl like you?" Hermione interrupted. "Oh, no, I know they were trying to insult me," she added, as Harry was about to reply. "But who was the _we_?"

"Oh, probably Gryffindor." Tracey rolled her eyes. "That's why they got mad at me – I may have disagreed slightly with them what the best house was."

"Weasleys always end up in Gryffindor," Draco said with a shrug. "They're very proud about it. And Potter's dad was in Gryffindor too, I think. But there's not as many of the Potters about. I'll be in Slytherin, probably. Harry's a bit indecisive, so we'll see about him." Harry rolled his eyes at the lighthearted dig. "So what was the best house, Tracey?"

Tracey grinned. "Mother wants me in Ravenclaw, so I'll probably try for Slytherin just to shock her. _They_ thought I was the next Morgana, of course."

Harry could see the cogs turning in Hermione's head as she glanced between the bantering wizard-raised pair, but even he didn't expect her next words. "So is it true that Slytherin is evil?" He nearly choked at her blasé tone, but Draco and Tracey didn't seem too bothered.

"Oh, the most evil," Draco said loftily with a wave of his hand. "None are worse. Slytherins are always evil. According to Merlin, anyways – but what does he know, _he_ only got into the house during a Resorting."

Tracey rolled her eyes and glanced at Hermione. "Eh. It's a complicated relationship with Gryffindor. Didn't you like those two shining beacons of Gryffindor nobility? Anyways, we should probably go get changed – it's getting dark."

* * *

His first view of the castle that was to be his home for the next seven years was one of the most breathtaking moments of his young life.

On the subject of Hogwarts, Tom had always been strangely silent. He'd gotten the impression that it was a subject the wizard didn't like to talk about, though of course he wouldn't tell Harry why either. His mum had told him stories, and so had the Blacks who had quasi-adopted him – but they didn't have the flair for storytelling that came so naturally to his invisible friend.

And nothing they said had prepared him for this moment. From the water, the castle seemed to touch the very sky as it soared above them. The laughter and cheer carried easily across the water towards them as the boats glided on the lake. Even though he knew he was a wizard, he hadn't truly believed it until now. The rescue from the cupboard – the reappearance of his mother – his unexplainable friend Tom - it just wasn't the same.

The castle seemed to sing to him.

"It's the magic," Tom murmured. He was trying to hide it, but Harry could feel a sense of – loneliness? sorrow? – in his companion's voice. "The old way of magic. You're one of the few who can feel it."

Harry frowned a little at that thought. To not be able to feel it... Over the impenetrable darkness of the water beneath them, the castle rose into the sky as they inched closer and closer. He was so close...

"Let go a little," advised Tom. "Here – like this..."

Harry felt himself soar in the magic as he closed his eyes.

* * *

A professor named McGonagall had collected them at the doors of the castle. Now they were just waiting to be called in – for what, Harry wasn't sure, but he couldn't quite hide his smile. _Hogwarts_. At last. His mother was right – there simply weren't words to describe it.

They were by the edges of the crowd. Next to him was Draco, surrounded by all his childhood friends. Harry had never met most of them, but he recognized a few from the ill-fated garden party. He ignored their chatter, instead taking the time to look at their surroundings. The castle was even more enormous in person. Even from his place, though, he could see the portraits moving as the staircases shifted above them. A few of the first years screamed when the ghosts swept through; Harry just watched them quietly. He remembered Sirius saying that each house had its own ghost – _was that one headless?_

"Oh – Harry." The boy in question startled, but it was only Hermione. She must've come up behind him. "Hey," she said with a nervous smile, fidgeting a bit as he turned around. They were off to the side, away from where anyone could hear them. Harry glanced over for a second to where she kept looking. The two boys they'd met on the train _had_ noticed they were talking. "I - um – what – what house –"

But she didn't have a chance to finish her question when McGonagall swept back in and ordered the first years to follow her. She wasn't one of those people who had to say it twice. They were pushed into a tight group as McGonagall led them between a row of tables and had to scramble to keep up with her brisk pace. Even those who'd grown up in the Wizarding World gasped as they entered the hall.

Above them soared thousands and thousands of floating candles that bathed the hall in an otherworldly light. On either side were two tables, filled with chattering students who seemed to be staring right at him. Their golden plates were empty, Harry noticed, but it was already a richer feast than any he ever attended as a child. Silently they marched towards the end of the hall; there stood a long table with what must have been the Hogwarts professors. They, too, looked down from their high chairs, murmuring to themselves as they watched the first years file in. But it was the ceiling that took his breath away – not a ceiling at all, surely, but the heavens above. Harry couldn't believe he'd even entered the castle at all. They were the same stars, the same moonlight – even the same clouds that had lined their way into Hogwarts.

The first years were so entranced that they nearly collided into a heap when they reached the front of the room. Some of them weren't so lucky; Hermione in particular had the misfortune to collide into a few of Draco's friends. They didn't take offense, but Potter and Weasley didn't miss the chance to laugh at her with some new friends they'd managed to pick up since the afternoon. Hermione just bit her lip, the blood rising angrily in her cheeks. Harry shuffled a little closer to her and tried to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but once again McGonnagall cut them off before Hermione could reply.

"When I call out your names, you will come forth," she said briskly, motioning to a – stool? – besides her. It was times like this he wished desperately to be taller. She hadn't mentioned anything about the Sorting itself when she'd given her speech at the door, but it looked too small to be the troll Weasley had sworn up and down it was. Hermione noticed him trying to crane his head. "It's a _hat_ ," she murmured quietly, just as McGonagall broke in with, "And I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your Houses," and glared at the two of them. Apparently she'd still heard Hermione.

But then even Harry could see when the stern professor, who was one of the most elegant women he'd ever seen, pick up one of the dirtiest, most ragged hats he'd _ever_ seen (even among Dudley's pile of putrid laundry). "But how does it even –" Harry heard Weasley whine behind him, only to jump when the hat suddenly began to – _sing_?

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folks use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Hermione seemed to make more sense of the words than he did – or at least she looked very thoughtful. But the green-robed witch didn't give them any time to process the raggedy hat's strange words before she started to summon the first years. "Abbot, Hannah," was quickly placed in Hufflepuff. The next few were scattered between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, with only Tracey going to Slytherin. Soon it'd be Hermione's turn. He'd be nearly last, he realized with a gulp.

"Granger, Hermione."

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before she walked carefully up to the hat. The hat took a few seconds longer, but then the new muggleborn Slytherin proudly off to her new table. Even McGonagall looked shocked, but she quickly recovered and silenced the muttering first years with a look.

The hat took only a second for Draco, naturally, before it sent him off to Slytherin. Most of Draco's friends had gone to either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but Harry hadn't kept track. He was too busy trying to figure out how long he had when the hall suddenly went still.

 _The Chosen One_ , Harry realized everyone was muttering. Charles Potter, the boy he'd run into on the train, swaggered forth to take his seat. Everyone, even the teachers, seemed anxious at the thought of which house he'd be in, but they didn't have to worry: within a second, the Hat cried out Gryffindor.

"Unremarkable," Tom muttered, but didn't expand on it. Too soon it was Harry's turn. As McGonagall slipped the hat onto his head, he could feel the world go dark.

"Now what do we have here?"

Harry would have jumped if he wasn't so used to strange voices in his head.

" _What_ a reassuring thought. Would you care to tell me who's in your head?" _He can't tell,_ Harry realized. But it wasn't like he could tell the Hat anything himself, anyways. "No? Well, whoever it is will be silent for a bit," the Hat growled. "Don't worry, you can keep your secrets. I won't tell. I have more than enough... ah, what bravery. You'd make a fine Gryffindor, you know. Just like your mother. One of the best who ever came through."

"Not Gryffindor," Harry pleaded in his head, his heart nearly stopping at the thought. The thought of having to be friends with that – _ugh_.

"Not Gryffindor, eh?" The Hat seemed to almost frown. "You'd be perfect for it, you know. But, well – you're loyal too. You haven't told a soul about your friend there. Ravenclaw would serve you just as well as the badgers, but you don't seem to have the wish for it... no, you've known where you wanted to go for a while, I think. Better be... SLYTHERIN!"

In a daze, Harry went to the far table. It seemed so... well, _distant_ from the others.

"Slytherin, huh?" Tom whispered in his ear.

"Don't you approve?"

"Congratulations, Harry," replied Tom, ignoring the question. "Go enjoy it."

"Why the frown, Harry?" Draco said with a whoop and a grin as he joined his childhood friend at the Slytherin table. "You got into Slytherin! And here you were saying you wanted Ravenclaw –"

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said in a whisper as he slid in next to the brunette. "So Slytherin?"

Hermione shrugged, her smile bland. "Where else would I find real friends?" Harry opened his mouth to reply, but she shushed him – too happily. "Pay attention – the headmaster is speaking."

The hall had already quieted around them – there'd been something about the Forbidden Forest, which was, unsurprisingly, _forbidden_ – but Harry could see some of the Gryffindors muttering at that already from his corner of the room. "Idiots," Tom said dryly. "They'll get killed the second they sneak in there – don't worry, I'll show you how to go in without raising suspicions."

" – Harry, _pay attention_." Hermione looked at him strangely, as if she knew there was something off.

"... and finally," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh as he finished up his rambling speech, "I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor is out of bounds to anyone that does not wish... to die a very painful death."

The air went out of the room for a second, but the mutters soon followed. "... A little melodramatic, don't you think?" Draco said sideways.

Harry didn't respond; he was too busy watching the headmaster. A headmaster that was staring rather too intently at... well, Charles Potter.

"Harry?" murmured Tom.

"The Dursleys never told me off like that," Harry whispered slowly to the voice in his head. "It almost sounded like – well, a dare."

* * *

The first few days passed by in a blur. Tom had been nearly silent since the Sorting, besides whispering his brief congratulations. Shouldn't he have been more pleased? Harry wasn't sure. Maybe Tom hadn't been a Slytherin. His mother and Sirius had seemed please, anyhow, and the hurried conversations between the bustle of the new school schedule were more than enough for now.

"Hey – hey, Harry, wait up!" Harry paused when he heard Tracey's voice down the hall, and slowed down so she could catch up. "Hey," she said again, her voice breathless from running as she grinned at him. "Whaddya up to? I feel like I've barely seen you."

"Don't we have every class together? And I'm heading to the library, if you want to come." They rounded the corner into one of the empty hallways leading up to the library.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant. And that's perfect, it's just where I was heading. How do you even know how to get there yet?"

Harry stopped at her last comment and frowned. Tracey spun around, her grin far too innocent. "Why are you going there if you don't know how to get there?" he asked, his voice just a tad suspicious. "What's the real reason you were following me?"

"Oh, good one Harry, not obvious at all," Tom drawled. Harry nearly jumped at his friend's reappearance, but he stopped himself just in time. "Act more like a Slytherin."

"You're not much of a Slytherin," Tracey informed him at the same time in a tart voice, bringing him back down to earth. When he didn't answer immediately, she frowned. "Ok, fine. I wanted to talk to you. And I knew Hermione would probably be in the library –"

"What about Hermione?" he said, surprised. Harry felt a weird, sudden pang of concern for the muggleborn he'd met just a few days ago.

"She's not – look, don't take this the wrong way," began Tracey as she noticed Harry beginning to frown. "She's just... uh, well, she doesn't talk to any of the other girls. And I get it. Look, really, I do, but they think it's weird. She's so wrapped up in all her books of hers... but they think she thinks she's better than them."

Harry snorted as he pointed out the obvious. "And she's also a muggleborn –"

Tracey frowned. "That's not all of it, Harry. We've had muggleborns – hell, I even heard Snape was one, and look where he is now. Listen, would you just talk to her?"

"I – why don't you talk to her?" replied Harry. "You live with her. I've barely seen her since the train ride."

Tracey groaned and closed her eyes in despair. "I – geez. _Boys_. Hermione's not going to take it well, coming from someone like me. And I'm sure you can figure out what to say. Or ask Draco. I was going to ask him originally, but he's always disappears off to the library too."

"What do you mean, someone like you? I'm sure she'd be fine if you spoke to her," Harry replied, confused.

"I – you are such a boy," Tracey repeated in frustration. "Look, just talk to her? Figure out something to say. And quit being so obvious, or you're going to shame our house. And we're really only one week in." Turning on her heel, she stomped off – right in the exact direction of the library, Harry noted.

"Someone like _her_?" Harry repeated slowly. "... Tom?"

"It's a girl thing," Tom replied, yawning. "Just don't question it. You'll understand when you're older."

"Really?" Harry asked hopefully. There were so many things he didn't understand about girls –

"Of course you won't, Harry, why do you even ask me that?" Tom snorted. "But Tracey is right. Hermione will take it better from you. If you _really_ want to help her, that is."

"Why wouldn't I want to help her?" Harry asked in surprise. But Tom had disappeared again, and with a sigh, Harry went off to the library. It only took a few odd turns here and there – Draco and Hermione were right were they usually were, buried deep in a corner together. And, as usual, arguing.

" – the Corpus Hermeticum was _clearly_ – oh, Harry," Hermione looked up, startled out of her usual unruffled air.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry replied, looking a little befuddled at the table before him. Surrounding the pair of Slytherins were piles upon piles of books. And – upon a closer look – they weren't exactly books for class, either...

"De Occul – Occulta Philosophia?" Harry stumbled out, picking up one of the leather –

"Human skin," Tom pointed out helpfully. Harry dropped the book in shock.

"Harry?" Now Draco was staring at him.

"Uh – um, _human skin_?" Harry pointed out.

"Well, yes," Draco said nonchalantly. "We have a few of those at home. All the good alchemy texts have skin on them." His tone betrayed his puzzlement at why Harry didn't know that. Hermione wasn't paying attention. She'd buried her head back into one of the books.

"Yes – but – ugh. Nevermind. Where did you get the books?" Harry eyed them warily.

"Oh, they were sitting at the _Chosen One's_ table, but he didn't want to do any work," Hermione said flippantly. "So we took them. I was curious. He doesn't seem like the type to read, you know, so it was a bit suspicious." Harry didn't have time to mull over the statement from the same girl who'd nearly had an aneurism that they might not get to their first class on time.

"It's a good read, you know," Draco cut in. "A bit over our heads – well, treatises from the 2nd century BC usually tend to be a bit too complex for first years – but I think we've made good headway, all things considered."

"Great. So what headway did you make?" Harry swung himself over the seat next to Hermione, pushing some of the books to the side. Carefully, that is, so as not to touch more of the... _skin_.

"Not much," Hermione said thoughtfully, as she peered through one of the books. "It's kind of standard old scientific texts from the medieval ages."

"More confusing is what Potter had them in the first place," Draco replied, pushing his out of the way. "It doesn't really matter what they say – everyone knows that Flamel already found a way to prolong life –"

"He didn't have them," Hermione countered, lifting her head up to counter Draco. "Didn't you see it? They was leaving, and all of a sudden they just appeared on his desk. Not that they cared, of course," she added.

"They just appeared?" Harry's face burrowed in confusion. "Why – well, who?" he amended.

Hermione scowled. "No idea, and I'm getting a headache." She started to gather her things.

"I second that," Draco said with a yawn. "Here, just check this one out Harry, we hadn't gotten to it yet." He slid a smaller, blue covered book over to Harry. "Or, on second thought, don't check it out," he amended.

"If someone wanted Potter to see something, they probably know we took the books," Hermione pointed out.

"Actually, probably not," Draco replied, reaching for his own bag. "Wizards are remarkably lazy about that sort of thing. Father always said to never assume your plan worked – said that was what got most caught..." his voice trailed off as he looked up.

"Draco?" Hermione asked. But Harry had already seen it – a mop of red hair, eyes glaring at them suspiciously.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, packing the book neatly away into his own bag. "We can talk down in the common room."

"Absconda," Tom whispered in his ear as they made their way out of the library.

"Abs – what?"

"Just say it. A flick of the wand to the left, that's all you need," his voice replied back. "Now – before you pass her desk – "

"Absconda," Harry whispered under his breath. The stern faced librarian didn't look up once as they passed her desk, the stolen book hidden soundly under the fold of his bag.

"And you forgot to talk to Hermione," Tom pointed out.


	5. That patient merit

"That patient merit"

"Harry?" Hermione greeted him with a yawn as she came out of the dark hallway that led to the girls' rooms in Slytherin. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Oh – just, ah, practicing my Charms work," Harry said quickly. It was a lie, of course, but he'd gotten better at that. Tom had been working with him on how to open locks. It was useful, having his own private tutor.

"You should be so lucky to learn from me," Tom muttered dryly in his head. Harry bit his lip. Sometimes it was still weird having someone hear all his thoughts. "We can work on that, you know," said Tom in response, having of course heard that. "You're old enough now to start learning how to defend your thoughts. And you should, since Dumbledore can read them –"

" _What?"_

"Harry?" Hermione's voice broke him out of the conversation. She looked at him a little oddly. "Breakfast? Then I can run by the library before class and – "

"Why don't we wait for the others?" interrupted Harry. "Tracey and Draco asked if I'd wait for them," he amended, seeing the put out look on her face at the prospect of missing out on more studying. "You could go to the library during free period."

"I – ugh. Fine. I can't go alone to the Great Hall anyways, Potter and Weasley'll just come harass me again," Hermione replied, tossing her book bag into one of the armchairs that stood by the fireplace. The sun had come up about an hour ago, but down in the Slytherin common rooms, the only light came from the torches laid out across the halls. The fire's flickering flame cast a languid green light across the floors that was strangely comfortable... and for the first time, Harry started to appreciate the darkness.

"So. Charms?" Hermione said thoughtfully, drawing out her wand. "Have you gotten _Diffindo_ down yet?"

Harry nearly snorted, but caught himself in time. "Nah, I've been having a little trouble with that one – "

"Here," Hermione said, pointing her wand with an elegant grace towards a well-worn antique pillow on one of the sofas. " _Diffindo._ " The pillow split in half, its fluffy insides pouring out like guts beside it. Harry chocked. That'd taken him almost a week, and he was two months ahead of where the class was supposed to be –

"And she didn't have a tutor," Tom murmured thoughtfully.

"And – _reparo_." Hermione flicked her wrist neatly, and the pillow stitched itself back up. "See? It's all in the hand work, that's probably what you're getting wrong –"

"And intention," Harry broke in.

"Sorry?" Hermione furrowed her brow. "No, the book _clearly_ says –"

"Forget – oh, just trust me on this one. Someone taught it to me growing up. Think about the physical act, and tell the wand what you want it to do –"

"Harry! You're still here!" Tracey burst into the room like a hurricane, her messy black hair swirling around her. "Oh – and Hermione," Tracey said in surprise. "Nice to see you! Draco and the rest are coming," she added.

"Harry," Hermione whispered under her breath as the rest of the first years staggered into the Common Room. "Who taught you –"

"Hermione," Daphne called. Tracey was talking to her, Harry noticed. "Do you want to – um, that is – "

"Hermione, you did the Potions homework already, right?" Tracey cut in, twirling her hair around one of her fingers.

"Oh, um, yeah," replied Hermione, looking a bit puzzled at the sudden question from a girl she'd barely spoken to. "Did you have –"

"Oh, perfect!" Tracey said with a chirp. "Here, Daphne, I told you she'd done it already. Hermione, can you reassure Daphne she got the homework right? Since you both love Potions so much, that is. _I_ simply don't have the head for it. Doesn't run in the family, that's what mother always says." She ushered Hermione next to Daphne, and then neatly slipped into the place next to Harry as the first-year caravan began to head out of the Common Room.

"You didn't talk to her at all, did you?" Tracey said, far too chipper for how early it was in the morning.

"I didn't get a chance," Harry protested. "Besides – does it matter?" He gestured up to the two girls, who begun to actually have an animated discussion over the various benefits of using aconite.

"Boys," Tracey said with all the lofty disdain of an eleven-year-old girl. "Eh, she'll be fine," she added. "She just needed to see that some of us mere mortals are on her level before she scared everyone off. They'll be good for each other, you'll see."

"You've got a lot of tricks up your sleeve for someone so innocent looking," Harry replied as they made their way up the cold cobblestoned stairs of the dungeons and into the first floor of the castle.

"Stick with me, Harry," Tracey said with a grin. "It won't be boring, I can promise you that." She let loose a yawn as they made their way onto the first floor, the smell of breakfast luring them in. "Oh, pancakes – I'm so spoiled –"

"Oh, look, Granger made some friends," came a snide voice. Harry groaned as he looked up at the stairwell above them and found the all-too-familiar redhead. "Did you promise to do all their homework?"

"It's not like you're a real Slytherin anyways," Potter cut in with his overly elegant drawl. "Everyone _knows_ they hate – "

Several various jinxes hit the two boys standing on the stairwell above them at once. All of a sudden, Potter's legs seemed to go out from under him and he nearly tumbled down the stairs. Weasley's bag split into two, the books flying across the stairs. And to make matters worse, the whole staircase began to shake and move – flying the boys over to the other side of the second floor corridors and away from food.

"Hey!" Weasley protested, his voice becoming more muffled as they went off in an entirely opposite direction. "Slytherin –" The rest of his insults didn't make it across.

The group snickered over the Gryffindors' misfortune as they made their way into the Great Hall, trooping down to the end of the table closest to Dumbledore that the first years were relegated to.

"Thanks for the splitting his bag open," Harry heard Hermione murmur to Pansy. "And beautiful wandwork!" she added.

"Thanks," Pansy replied, yawning. "They're asses. _So_ worth it. How'd you get the stairs to move, anyways?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a grin, as she settled into the bench across from Harry. "Just tickle them. I learned about it in _Hogwarts, A History_ –"

"That's brilliant!" Daphne gushed from their other side as she tore into a muffin. "Orange juice, Harry?" She offered the pitcher to him.

"Thanks," Harry said with a smile, and passed in to Draco after he was done. There was an unexpected warm feeling in his stomach – like when Tom had arrived, or Sirius had found him, or when his mother called each night.

Real friends, indeed.

* * *

"Can Quirrell be _any more boring_?" Draco muttered. Even Hermione, who usually took detailed notes during each and every class seemed to be... drooling a little as she slept on her desk.

It was nearly the day of All Hallow's Eve, and they had exactly three hours, forty-four minutes, and two seconds until the Feast. That is, when the entire school would go to the Feast and Harry would get to sneak out to light the Samhaim fire.

Forty-three minutes and thirty two seconds.

"You should pay – oh, we'll just go over more interesting stuff later." Even Tom sounded bored to death.

"- and as – ah - as we, we all kno-oo _ow_ , All Hallows Eve was when - when the Dark Lord fell," Quirrell said, swooping down on Potter. Sorry, _the Chosen One_. Harry rolled his eyes. Thankfully, none of the Slytherins made a peep. McGonnagall had chewed them out too much for that this morning.

"That barely took ten minutes," Daphne, normally the quietest out of the bunch, muttered. Harry winced, but thankfully Quirrell didn't hear.

"Now the – the Dark Lord, as brilliant as – as – he was," Quirrell continued, but Harry tuned him out as he sent Tracey's paper bird flying back to her with a swish of his wand.

"Is it just me," Draco drawled – quietly, of course – "or does our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seem a little too in love with You-Know-Who?"

"Yeah, duh." Harry whispered, his eyes still fixed on the bird going back and forth. They were up to fifteen passes. "Remember when he was droning on about Morgan Le Fey and Herpo the Foul? He has a thing for dark magic."

"And more importantly, what's with the turban?" Pansy leaned over towards them from her seat across the aisle. "It's so – well, odd. Who just starts wearing a – "

Harry looked up quickly as her voice dropped off. And just in time, too.

"Mr. Ste – Ste - Steward!" Quirell said with a frown. "Please – please expand upon wha- what happend when the Dark L- lord attacked th- the Potter residence." He finished the sentence quickly.

Now Draco did let out a groan, but Quirell didn't seem to notice. Harry rolled his eyes, but started to recite the story he'd heard Potter boast about all too often.

* * *

Harry grabbed the opportunity to escape as soon as he could. Luckily for him, Draco was still getting ready, so he said he'd go ahead with Daphne and Hermione. To the two of them, though, he'd begged off, feigning ill.

"Make sure you get a potion from Professor Snape, Harry!" Daphne said anxiously behind him.

"Of course!" Harry turned and smiled back at them, giving a little wave. "Enjoy the feast!"

Then he ducked into the little corridor and took the left turn that led away from the Potions Master's rooms and the Slytherin dormitory.

 _Left, left – right – one, two, three_ –

At last, Harry came upon the room where he'd left his carefully laid cache. There wasn't much – not enough for anyone to guess what he was about to do, anyways.

"Next year we'll go to the woods," Tom promised. "For Beltane, too, just as I told you. But it's not safe for a first year."

Harry didn't reply. He was too busy sorting – mistletoe, hung over the fire, some of its leaves mixed in with the wood of an Elder tree. Vervain, ashes of betony, yew leaves, and pine branches, marking the ring around the fireplace.

He closed his eyes, reaching inside… and slowly, he felt the fire begin to lick his face.

"Reach out," Tom murmured. And just as he'd done since he came to the Black house, Harry offered his hands, palm up, to the fire. It was a warm comfort – he could see the fire dancing over his skin, but it left no burn in its wake.

Harry let himself fall as he stared deeper and deeper into the flames…

* * *

The feast was well underway when Draco, Pansy, and Tracey finally arrived. The rest of the first years were already seated, chattering away happily.

But Tracey frowned as they settled into their seats, taking the pumpkin juice Daphne passed along and letting it drop to the table. "Where's Harry?" she asked suddenly.

"Harry?" Draco said quizzically, looking up from loading his plate with the treats prepared for the feast. "Is that what you said? It's hard to hear, with all the noise –"

"Yes, _Harry_ ," Tracey nearly yelled at him. Above them, firecrackers were going off. The Hogwarts Chorus was in its third rousing attempt at the school song. At the Gryffindor table, someone – the Weasley twins, Tracey guessed – were taking the opportunity for a little mischief.

"Oh, he's feeling sick," Hermione replied loudly. "Didn't he pass you coming out? He was going to get a potion from Professor Snape." She turned back to Daphne, the two debating something or other, even in all the bustle.

She'd barely gotten a few words out when the doors to the Great Hall crashed open. The music stopped, the firecrackers fizzled out. A figure – Quirrell? – ran in, the foul stench wrapped around him.

"Troll," he squeaked, but so loud the whole room heard. "Troll in the dungeons."

And then he fainted, and then the whole room burst into a frenzy.

"Quiet!" Dumbledore commanded, and they all stopped, frozen in their places. "Prefects, escort your houses back to your common rooms – Minerva, Filius, Severus, please come with me – "

As the houses filed out, the mutters rising like a dark tide, the Slytherins shuffled about nervously.

"… but we live in the dungeons?" Hermione said at last. "Guys?" She looked around at the other first years. "Shouldn't we –"

"Be quiet." One of the prefects finally spoke up – a sixth year girl that Tracey vaguely remembered from their first night. "Mulber, Lindon – up front. Keep an eye out. Seventh years, spread around. First and second years, keep to the middle –" Her voice was drowned out as the older students pushed them into the crowd and they started to shuffle towards the dungeons.

"Why aren't we just staying in the Great Hall?" Daphne said, her voice cracking just a bit. "Wouldn't it –"

"Trolls are too dangerous in open space," Zabini cut in quietly from Tracey's other side. "We'd be safer down in the corridors, even if we did catch it. If they get too much momentum, they're nearly unstoppable." They'd picked up speed, now, as they raced to get to their common room and safety.

Daphne flinched a little at that. "Stop," Tracey heard Zabini whisper as he cut across her to stand next to the blonde-haired girl. "It won't be like your brother –" She bit her lip – she'd heard the story, growing up –

"Will we be ok?" Hermione squeezed in besides her, her face as white as a sheet. They'd finally reached the dungeons. Around them, the upperclassmen were silent.

"Yes," Tracey murmured, lacing her fingers through the older girl's reassuringly. "We're almost there."

* * *

The flames were a warm glow around him, but Harry only felt the smallest of a tickle as he stood in the fire. Just as Tom had taught him when he was younger, he let himself fall into the flames, reaching for his magic as he did so.

It never stopped being new – the feeling of touching the magic, the sheer _thrill_ of the energy that danced for him in that room. Dazed, Harry gulped in the air like a drowning man. He never felt more alive…

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

But this _was_ new. The man stood in front of him. He was older, nearing forty, but his face seemed carved of marble, his dark eyes watching Harry unblinkingly. There was a dangerous air about him, but it called to Harry like a siren's song…

"You see me," the man said in surprise.

Harry blinked, but the man didn't disappear. His face broke into a smile, full of wonder.

"… Tom?"

He didn't need to respond – Harry knew him, _had_ known him, nearly all his life. With a cry, he leapt forward, his hand outstretch –

And suddenly the warmth left him, the cold slamming into him like death's wave. His breath caught in the air.

"Harry – _Harry_!"

The magic snapped as the circle was broken. As Tom broke it forcibly. Harry let his hand drop – he had been close, so close –

He had come so close, but the fire had already died.

* * *

He yawned as the light woke him up. Nearly 11, the clock on the wall said, but he was still exhausted. He hadn't slept at all. He couldn't, not with the vision of the man that kept –

"Wait, 11?" Harry shot up with a gasp. There was potions – Merlin's beard, Snape would _kill_ him for sure –

The speed with which he dressed probably broke a record somewhere. Within five seconds, he was in his robes and out the door. "Books, Harry," Tom reminded him quietly. Book bag – _Merlin, his wand_ – and of course his foot slammed into the bedframe. Finally he was ready – his robes straightened, his hair lying flat, books collected, and he traipsed out of his room at a mild run.

Only to be greeted with the mildly surprised faces of his fellow Slytherins in the common room. They were all utterly at ease: Daphne and Hermione playing an engrossing game of chess, Tracey examining some Chocolate Frog Cards with Pansy, and Draco, Zabini, and the rest simply sprawled out with their books.

"Wha –" He did a double take around the room to make sure that he was not, in fact, hallucinating. Maybe he'd slept until 11 pm…?

"Classes cancelled," Tracey replied, not looking up. "The troll's still loose. We're to stay here; the house elves brought some food for the day –"

Harry dropped his bag on one of the chairs. "Sorry, a _troll_?"

"Oh, right, you were asleep when we got back. Troll got into the castle. Quirell stopped by the feast to warn us, promptly fainted, the idiot – "

"You shouldn't talk like that about him, he's a professor," Draco cut in, but really not with any sort of force.

"He's such an idiot, it's practically criminal," Tracey responded without hesitation. "Anyways, they sent us back to the common room – oh, when Quirell told them the troll _was in the dungeons_ , I might add – and we didn't want to wake you, so, um, yup, that's pretty much it. Oh, and then the note appeared this morning saying classes were cancelled because there's still a troll on the loose and not to leave the common room under pain of imminent death or whatever."

"They sent them back into the _dungeons_?" Tom hissed. Harry winced at the anger he was projecting. "Sorry," Tom said shortly. "And why is the bloody troll still on the loose? The castle should have told Dumbledore – "

"Harry?" Tracey was looking at him again. Merlin, he needed to stop zoning out. "Want to help me sort these cards?"

"Sure." He plopped down on the couch next to her. "Oh, Sayre, I remember that one – you have _Ptolemy_?"

"Oh, yeah, I found that one last year," Tracey said distractedly. "Do you have a collection?"

"Nah, never got into it too much." Harry looked through more of the cards, but then saw the stack on the table. "What are those?" he asked, reaching for them. There had to have been thirty piled up –

"Oh, nothing," Tracey said in annoyance. "Well, it's those stupid Flamel cards. Every single Chocolate Frog I've opened since I got here has them, and it's driving me absolutely _insane_ … Pansy, do you have the Morgan Le Fey one? I'd be down to trade for that."

Harry flipped over one of the Flamel cards out of boredom. _Flamel… educated at_

 _Beauxbatons Academy of Magic… creator of the Philosopher's Stone_ –

The stone. Hadn't that been in the book –

"Here, want to get some food Harry?" Draco stood up next to him, groaning as he stretched. "I'm done with the Charms reading. And –"

"Yeah, Harry, you should go eat," Tracey cut in. "You haven't had anything to eat all day."

Harry slipped the card into his pocket. "Sure," he replied, letting himself be dragged over to the food. If he stayed for an hour, he could probably excuse himself to go back to his room without suspicion…

* * *

As the Yule season approached, the days became even shorter. It wasn't a problem in the Slytherin dorms, where most of the light came from the flickering torches that lined the hallways. With the colder weather, though, more - or more than usual, anyways - of the older students had started to congregate in the common rooms instead of the library after classes ended. The fifth and seventh years were usually too stressed out to be good for anything, but on many evenings Harry and the other first years found themselves being taught some new spell or lectured on magical theory by the upperclassmen. Harry had attempted to thank one of the older students one night, only to be told not to worry. "It's tradition," a fourth year boy explained by the fire one night. "You'll do it when you're older too - it helps the house, since no one else will. Might as well learn that now."

Hermione frowned at that last comment. "Like how they sent us down into the dungeons with a troll loose?"

"Eh." Dorian - or was it Damon? - shrugged. "Par for course. We had an outbreak of Black Cat Flu my first year, and of course there just weren't enough beds in the Hospital Wing to go around. My parents nearly pulled me out. They would have, if Professor Snape hadn't stayed up every night brewing potions just for us. The whole dorm would have caught it otherwise." He shrugged. "Anyways, keep up the good work. I've got to get going on some Alchemy homework -"

"What are you up to now, Hermione?" Harry said, faking a yawn. The clock on the mantle had just rung nine. "Hermione?" He waved a hand in front of her face, and the older witch jumped.

"Oh - ah, um, probably just finish up the Charms reading in bed," she said distractedly.

"Didn't you reread that book a month ago?"

"Oh, right." Hermione frowned again, her eyes darting around the room. She seemed too tired. "I'm just going to go read up on some things, then... it's getting late."

Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm going to head to bed - I didn't realize it was already nine." The next yawn was just reflexive. "Night."

"Night."

He ran through his usual practice with Tom in his room. Exercises, defensive spells, a few stunners, disarming - "we'll move on to freezing next, Harry," Tom noted in one of his few comments - and the Knockback Jinx. "Good. Don't think as much about the wand. I want you back to wandless magic by next fall."

"At least I get my own room for this," Harry replied, as the chair flew into the wall. With a wave of his wand, the furniture settled back into place. Some sweat dripped down his forehead; he brushed it away with the back of his hand. "What would you have done if I'd ended up in _Gryffindor_?"

"You didn't, though," Tom said dryly. "And if you had, you'd have been sneaking out every night anyways. No Gryffindor ever met a rule that they didn't break."

"Why don't they just expand their rooms?" Harry gulped down the water the house elves had left for him. "I mean, this room is nice, but it's hardly huge. Do they just not have the space up in the tower?"

"No, the Ravenclaws have their own rooms too," replied the voice in his head. "It's a warped sense of space - well, lots to do with magical architecture and how it was set up. The short of it is that the castle is very accommodating when it's asked properly."

"Asked?" Harry said quizzically. "That's the second time you've mentioned that," he added on quickly. "You said something similar after the troll. Is the castle sentient?"

Tom went silent for a moment. "In its own way, yes," he replied slowly. "It's infused with so much magic that it'd be a hard thing to invade this castle. I've read of certain magics laid into it, and seen many more, and only gotten a glimpse of what it can really do. You've noticed it, as has your friend Hermione."

"The staircases."

"Among other things."

"Got it." Harry swept his hair back absentmindedly. "It's almost ten thirty. Let me grab my cloak." The lights went out with a wave of his hand, but he had to use his wand to cast the Disillusionment Charm. Harry shivered as the charm coursed its way down his back.

The door shut softly behind him. It looked like the lights were out in most of the boys' rooms - but, as Harry noted, passing a mirror, it didn't really matter all that much. He'd gotten much better at the charm. Well, Tom hadn't let him out without being good... _wait, was that -?_

"You should follow her," Tom noted, as they watched the Hermione's small figure slip out of the first year girls' dorms, past the blurry-eyed Slytherins who were still buried in their books, and out through the portrait passageway that guarded the entrance.

Harry made his way around the chairs and couches that dotted the Slytherin common room. One of the Slytherins nearly caught him, when the girl stretched out her arms unexpectedly, but he slipped out of her grasp easily. Soon enough, he was out into the dungeons. Hermione had just turned around a corner, but he caught up to her with barely a sound - years of living with the Dursleys had been useful for that, at least.

Hermione was quicker on her feet than he expected. Soon enough, they'd made their way up to the ground, then up one, than another, then they were on the second floor landing, and Hermione was making her way down the corridor, turning in and out of corners, until they made their way to an abandoned classroom. The door creaked open when she touched it, but she didn't even seem worried. Without a moment's hesitation, she nearly ran into the room.

After a pause, Harry followed.

The room itself was actually quite large, the sort where the ceiling beams creaked and groaned in the night. The moonlight shone through the cracked glass in the windows, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. But there was hardly any furniture in the room - well, except for one.

Hermione stood near the center of the room before a mirror. It was hardly a spectacular mirror either, but merely one of those ornate artifacts that dotted wizarding mansions. Rather unremarkable. There was writing on the top that Harry couldn't make out.

"Never underestimate something based on looks, Harry," warned Tom.

Harry bit his lip, and looked more closely. His friend was simply standing there, unmoving, as she stared at the mirror. She barely blinked. Clearly there was something... but all he saw from this angle was Hermione's reflection.

Time seemed to crawl to a standstill as he stood there, watching Hermione, who watched the mirror. Harry almost yawned at some points, but caught himself. Tom, too, was quiet; all thoughts of training for the night had disappeared. The mystery of Hermione and the mirror was too fascinating.

But at long last they heard an owl's hoot in the night. The noise startled Hermione out of whatever mediation she had fallen into, and with one last - mournful? - look at the mirror, the Slytherin witch roused herself and slipped out of the room, her footsteps soft on the cold stone floor.

"Go over," urged Tom, but Harry had already started to move towards the mirror as soon as the door had groaned shut. With a few quick steps, he found himself in front of the mirror. But there wasn't anything - _idiot_ , Harry swore at himself. With a flick of his wand, the charm fell off his body. Finally, he could see himself in the mirror.

And the familiar face stared back at him – a face he'd seen every night in his dreams since Samhaim.

"T-" A cold wind enveloped him suddenly, knocking the breath out of him.

"Don't _ever_ say my name aloud, Harry," Tom warned. Only slowly did Harry regain control of his body.

He let the name on his tongue die. Instead, he traced out the man's face, memorizing its every detail. _Tom_. His hand on Harry's shoulder. And - his mother - his mother, and Sirius, and Andromeda, and Rhiannon, and Regulus, and Fia - his family, altogether... Fia was doing cartwheels in the grass, giggling as she ran to Regulus, who lifted her up and flew her around... Rhiannon, smiling and beaming with his mother... Sirius, looking at him so proudly... All of them, no longer in hiding, no longer lying. Tom, real, not just in his head.

Harry was about to reach forward when he heard the footsteps.

"Don't. Pretend not to hear."

He didn't need the warning. Harry forced himself to relax, letting his arm fall back to his side as if he had always intended it, simply staring into the mirror as if transfixed. He didn't even really need to think of how Hermione did it: his body was well and truly frozen by the threat of getting caught this late out at night.

"Mr. Steward, isn't it?"

The headmaster's piercing question cut through the darkness. He did tense up this time, and let himself. It wouldn't do to look calm. What would a first year do? Well, he was scared shitless in any case. He didn't need Tom's help to fake that.

"Um, I –" Harry let himself stumble away from the mirror, as if burned. Slowly, biting his lip, head bent in contrition – or fear? – he turned to face the headmaster. "Headmaster… I'm, um – I'm really, uh, sorry – "

"Mr. Steward, I didn't mean to give you a fright." The headmaster's tone was too jolly for how late it was. "It is an object of enchantment, is it not?" Harry let himself fidget as he stood before Albus Dumbledore, his eyes counting the tiles on the floor. "Many wizards and witches before you have come to gaze on it. Though I would like to hear how one as young as you came upon it…"

"I, um," _Keep the lie true._ "My frie – um, someone told me…"

"Say no more," the headmaster said in his sweet, fatherly voice. "I would not ask you to betray a friend. Now, it is getting late, and it is long past the time that you should be in bed."

"… Headmaster?"

"Yes, Mr. Steward?"

"I, uh…" He wanted to badly to look up, but he knew better. All the same… he could feel Dumbledore's eyes staring him down. He was fixed in the gaze of the beast. "Will there be…?"

"Punishment?" The headmaster's voice seemed almost curious. "Oh, no, Mr. Steward. You have been subject to a magic that has turned others mad… all I ask, now, is that you not go looking for it again."

He seemed sad, almost.

"Go, Harry," Tom urged him. "And don't look back."

* * *

Harry found himself turning over the headmaster's words in his mind nearly a week later. He'd stayed silent the whole of the train ride down to London, staring out of the window even as the fog started to cloud on it. _An object of enchantment_ … Erised, the mirror said. _The Mirror of Desire_. It'd only taken him a day to find it in his books in some brief chapter on this history of dark objects. It'd been one of the many Sirius had lent him over the years. Or that Tom had had him take from the Black library. It was hard to remember which. He'd been too nervous to go to the Hogwarts library. Everywhere he went, he could feel those eyes following him…

With a silent groan, Harry pulled himself up as the train pulled into the station. Quickly, he said his goodbyes to Draco and the rest of the first years. Hermione and Blaise they'd left back at school. Hermione didn't seem to upset about it, though he'd noticed that she'd stopped seeming so tired. But if the mirror was an enchantment – and one she'd fallen into, clearly – it seemed strange she could stop so easily. He had to catch himself the first night after, when he'd started to head for the second floor instead on his usual abandoned classroom in the dungeons.

It'd been moved. It had to have been. That was the only possibility – one that dogged his mind as he followed the signs out of the station, into the Muggle world, down the steps of King's Cross Station. The bus was easy enough to find, and only took him four stops before he arrived back at 12 Grimmuald. More than enough to arrive home right for dinner.

When he arrived, however, no one was there.

"Uncle Sirius…?" He called out finally, careful to let the door shut first. Not that it really mattered, since no one could have seen him once he'd touched the first step, but it never hurt to be careful.

"They went out."

Harry swung his head around in surprise. "Lady Black!" he said in delight. Usually the portrait of Sirius' mother was never awake, but –

"How many times must I tell you to call me Aunt Walburga, Harry?" the stern faced witch said warmly.

"If you insist," Harry demurred.

"Harry," came the warning.

"… Aunt Walburga?" The words still sounded alien on the tongue, but not unwelcome. Truth be told, he'd always dreamed of saying them. It was just the nerves that kept tripping him up.

Walburga ignored his hesitation. "My son went out unexpectedly. I believe your mother is taking a short nap upstairs…" Harry frowned. Some afternoons were like that, but she'd sounded better recently. "And now. Tell me about your first term at Hogwarts. My congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin – we were all so delighted to hear of it."

Harry let himself be drawn into the talk, and soon found himself smiling at the memories he'd made. He told Walburga all about his new friends – Draco, of course, she knew, but also Hermione, Tracey, Pansy, Blaise, and the rest. Charles Potter and Ron Weasley and their idiocy – Walburga pursed her lips, but offered nothing besides a "hmmph" – the troll in the dungeons, his classes, and, before he could stop himself, the strange case of the mirror.

"That old thing is still rotting in the castle?" Walburga said with a sniff. "It's not a toy to be played with, and _certainly_ not to be left around children. How utterly careless. Either Dumbledore's getting senile in his old age, or – "

But she was interrupted as the door swung open, letting the gust of wind blow in with a dreadful howl. "Harry!" The dark haired man bounded up the stairs with a grin on his face. "I see you've found a way to pass the time. Hello, mother."

"Sirius," Walburga said, mildly reproachful at her eldest son's energy, but even Harry could see her hidden smile. "Harry, let's talk later. I'm sure Sirius has plenty to share with you."

"Ah, of course – here, let me get your trunk –" With a wave of his hand, the trunk started to ascend the stairs. "So, Harry," Sirius said cheerfully, clapping his arm around the boy's shoulder. "How has Hogwarts been? Fia has missed you dreadfully."

"It's been great!" Harry said with a shy grin. It was strange, coming back to the house after months away – the longest he'd gone for since Sirius had brought him here those years ago. His heart unclenched a little. There'd been something that'd made him scared to come back. Would he still have a place here? Or would they have forgotten him, the little boy who didn't really belong, and who had no claim to any of this? "Will everyone be here for Yule?" he quickly added.

"Oh, well, I believe Rhia and Andromeda are out preparing for the festivities," Sirius said thoughtfully, with a twinkle in his eye. "Your mother's been helping me with the tree… let's see, I believe it'll just be the cousins for dinner, so you'll see Draco, of course, if you're not sick of him yet. Oh, Bellatrix won't be able to make it. She's the only one not coming – I think she's off in the south of France… I know Narcissa is dying to see you though. We'll have a grand time."

"The south of France?" Harry asked quizzically, as they made their way up to his bedroom on the third floor.

"Oh, yes," Sirius said with a wave. "She said she wanted some sun, though it's dreadful this time of year. All the Beauxbatons students on holiday. I'd rather go in January, personally. Here we go." The trunk settled with a soft _thump_ on the floor. "Now, your mother should be up any minute…


	6. Of the unworthy takes

"Of the unworthy takes"

Christmas at 12 Grimmuald Place was a cheerful affair. Harry woke up to the smell of pancakes and the crash of his door; with a good-natured groan, he buried his head deep into his pillows as Fia jumped onto his bed. "Really?"

"Mother said to wake you up," said Fia in a sing-song voice. She giggled, but Harry couldn't see her.

"Alright, fine, I'm getting – " The pillow flew into his face just as he raised his head. "You little -!" he cried, full of fake outrage. But she jumped off the bed, laughing wildly as soon as he tried to catch her. "I'll get you back for that!" Harry yelled after her, still a little too lazy to get up from the bed.

"No you won't!" Fia yelled back, her voice disappearing down the stairs.

"Ugh," groaned Harry, falling back into the pillows. He let a minute or two go by; soon enough, he heard another door slam, Aunt Rhia scolding Fia for running in the kitchen. Some things never changed. Quickly, he flung the bedsheets to the side and jumped out of bed. He only had a few minutes at most… he pulled the boxes carefully out of their hiding place under the bed. Fia, Mum, Uncle Sirius and Rhia, Draco… Harry checked all the names. Each present was there, wrapped in full.

With a quick peek out the door, he levitated the presents behind him. Harry nearly ran down the stairs to the second-floor library where the tree was. He'd tried to come down the night before, but Fia's room was just outside. Sirius had had to sneak down in his dog form just to get past his watchdog of a daughter.

With a flick, the presents zoomed into their place under the tree. Perfect.

"Breakfast before you're caught," Tom said in amusement. "Sirius' little hellfire will probably be upset if she didn't get her pancakes yet."

"Eh." Harry shrugged his shoulders. He turned to leave the room, but –

It caught his eye. No, that wasn't right. He could feel it, just barely out of reach. Right through the – he rushed forward and pushed on the wood panel. It gave way easily with the right tug. Normally he wouldn't be so careless, but the magic just seemed to call and call and call and he had to get there, right away, and he was walking – no, he flew – down the passageway, down into the darkness, deeper and deeper into 12 Grimmuald Place. Finally, he found the door. It wasn't locked. Or, rather, the locks gave way under his magic.

As he rushed into the room, Harry was dimly aware that the torches burst to life. The silence was deafening. Neither said a word - both too transfixed on finding the source of the magic that called to them.

Tom's magic.

It was there - whatever it was - on the altar in front of them. He could feel his blood screaming in his head. So close. He stepped forward, his arm outstretched. And then he touched it.

Time stopped. Suddenly - well, he was in his body, but not. He was falling. The darkness swelled around him; the void opening until he could no longer see out. He was a spirit in his own world, in the darkness of the void, dimly aware of what was going on around him... but not...

 _"HARRY!"_

Sirius' voice split open the silence. Harry was only slightly aware of the wizard behind him, pulling him back from the void, yanking him out of the oblivion. But then the magic was ripped from his hands and Harry rose from the depths, coughing as the air forced itself into his lungs.

"Come on," Sirius said grimly, lowering him to the floor. "Harry, come back. Merlin - Harry, your mother will kill me - just wake up -" The eleven year old gasped for air. Finally, he could open his eyes, and he blinked furiously as Sirius finally came into view. Harry's guardian was bent over him, his face wild with worry as he cradled the boy's body. "Harry? Harry, it's going to be fine, just breathe. Slowly, slowly - come on, you can do this. You just need some air, you - you idiot, you could have died - "

Harry pushed himself up from the ground. "You're blabbering." Sirius frowned, but before he yell at him again, Harry interrupted. "What was that?" As jarring as the experience was, he found himself more curious than anything. "It was like - like it was calling out to me..." Sirius tensed up, eyeing Harry cautiously.

Finally, he spoke. "We're not quite sure what it is," admitted Sirius with an unnerving frankness. He lifted an eyebrow at Harry's confused expression. "What?"

"Nothing." The words jumped out of his mouth before he could think. Nervously, he pushed himself to his feet. Sirius stood up beside him, dwarfing him. "Um." Harry stumbled over the words this time, but glanced up at Sirius to reassure himself. The wizard's face was impossible to read. "You, um... you told me the truth?"

Sirius shrugged. "It's not a state secret - well, yes, I suppose you shouldn't be running around Hogwarts blabbering that the Blacks have a secret chamber under their house hiding an object of unknown enchantment, but I would think you're old enough to know how to keep a secret, especially considering you've now been affected by it. It's not as if I'm going to just Obliviate you."

"Oh." Harry let himself fall into step besides Sirius as the wizard led him out of the chamber, sealing the doors behind them. "But - um, why...?"

"When I found the stone, it did the same to me." Harry could see that Sirius was choosing his words carefully, but at least he was getting answers. They were back at the library now, and the door swung shut behind them. Glancing back, Harry was startled to see the doorway disappear into the wall, with no hint of what lay behind. "You know," Sirius added casually, "I could have sworn this door was shut. Particularly considering that it seals itself automatically when not in use."

"Oh...?" Harry trained his eyes very hard on a crack in the stone.

"Must be something in the magic," Sirius continued, ignoring Harry's nervousness. "All things considered, however, we will need to make sure none of this gets you into trouble. Harry, have you heard of a practice called Legilimency?"

"Penetrating the mind," Harry responded promptly. He glanced up at Sirius. "Dumbledore knows how to do it, doesn't he?" Tom had told him once, but he could still feel the piercing gaze on his skull when he had stumbled across the mirror... he hadn't needed any warning to know there was something strange at work.

"Yes," Sirius said with a frown. His gaze seemed a little lost, but then he shook his head. "Only when he can use your eyes as a focal point. Most wizards and witches need to look into your eyes. So rule number one - always avoid the gaze. Rule number two - well, learning to shield your mind is easier than walking around blind." He squeezed Harry's shoulder, then pushed him towards the door. "Go get some pancakes, Fia's waiting. Then come by my study. I'm afraid you'll have to study a bit over your break."

* * *

"Boys, say hello to the Headmaster," Lady Potter demanded.

Ron froze behind Charles in the doorway, but his best friend didn't seem stunned at all, and abandoned Ron within a heartbeat. "Sir." Charles greeted Dumbledore with a cheerful grin. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry indeed," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. Ron followed him hastily. His mother would have probably told him to fix himself up, too, but it wasn't like anyone really cared. His mother was always going stupid over shit like that.

"Hi, Professor Dumbledore," Ron said from behind Charles. Lady Potter just sniffed at his appearance.

"Ah, Molly Weasley's son, correct?" Dumbledore beamed. "What a treat. You must be her second youngest." Ron wanted to roll his eyes, but Dumbledore was staring right at him. Even he wasn't that stupid. But all anyone ever cared about was his – "The professors tell me you're doing very well at school," added the Headmaster cheerfully. "Are you sure you wouldn't like some cocoa?" He said suddenly, turning to Lady Potter. But Ron didn't pay attention. Inside, he was swelling with pride. Wait til his mum heard about this! She'd shut up about his grades now. He missed what Lady Potter said next, though, but suddenly she swept out of the room and the two boys were left alone with the headmaster.

"I trust you both have recovered sufficiently since your trip to the third floor," Dumbledore said calmly as soon as the door shut behind Charles' aunt. "You needn't worry. As promised, I have not informed your parents."

"Professor," replied Charles after a long pause. "What's in the chamber?"

"Ah, but I fear I cannot answer." Dumbledore studied them both with a warm eye. Ron stood up a little straighter. Some of the students were scared of the headmaster, but really, he wasn't so bad. Even when he stared. "You did the right thing by running away. The magic that guards the third floor makes no distinction between friend or foe, and it would take a great wizard to defeat it."

"But sir," Charles cut in again, "why does whatever it is need guarding?"

Dumbledore turned to look at Charles as he answered. "Many desire it. And in the wrong hands, it would mean a terrible danger for us all."

"But He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is gone…"

"I fear I must not burden you with the troubles of us adults," said Dumbledore, quite somber. "But – run along! You both are young and should enjoy the holidays." He beamed again at them, and Ron let himself be pulled out of the room by Charles.

* * *

The holiday was short, but every night, Tom made Harry keep up his practices, even with the addition of Sirius' tutoring.

Harry watched the fire fizzle out from his hand yet again.

"Why are we practicing wandlessly?" He tried to keep the whine out of his voice. Tom usually loved to explain things anyways... maybe he could get a break.

If Tom noticed his thoughts, he didn't mention it. "Because it's the real way to use magic," Tom told him. Harry sat for a moment sinking into the bed. "I've mentioned it briefly before, I believe, though most children - if they're taught it, that is - don't get taught it for several more years now, when their magic is stronger."

"The real way?"

"Instead of channeling it through a wand. Wands are helpful, but a bit of a crutch... though if you're not sufficiently trained to use magic, you might be overwhelmed by the force of using it raw. It's difficult to use less, and wands provide a natural taper."

"It's the energy I felt before, isn't it?"

"Yes." Tom seemed to be far away for a moment.

Harry pressed on, pushing away his frustration. "Why does yours feel so different than... Sirius, sort of, or Dumbledore's?"

Tom paused. "It's to do with the affinity of the magic. That's the less complicated way to explain it, I suppose."

"What's the more complicated?" Harry asked, his natural curiosity rising.

"Soul magic," Tom said bluntly, his natural desire to teach coming forward. "You don't really project yours until it's stronger. It develops by fourteen or fifteen, and then fully by when you come of age. It's when your magic is at its most volatile and most impressionable. There's two real affinities, if you count them - Light and Dark. It's to do with the way you use magic, how you use it. Light engages with the magic around us, while Dark... what's termed Dark magic is about the control of the magic within yourself and others. But they're meaningless terms, in truth. The separation only emerged when families decided to start practicing one or the other exclusively. Over time, they were no longer able to truly practice both, even if they wanted to. It's a benefit and a curse. Some of the families - like the Blacks - have developed extremely specific forms of magic they'll teach their children. The focus has allowed them to hone their magic to an extraordinary degree. But at the same time... they aren't quite able to practice all forms of magic. Some of the families have weakened their magic though, by insisting they only marry inside their affinities. Too much inbreeding. They've tried different ways to get it back, but they're not solving the main issue... which is why you're learning the more natural form. Back to practicing, Harry," Tom told him.

"But I can't do this," Harry said, annoyance rising again as his curse ended with a whimper. "Do we have to practice every single night? Can't I get one break? No one else my age practices half as hard. Or practices at all." He knew he was whining but didn't care.

When Tom finally answered, his voice was as cold as the Scotland winds. "No one?" he questioned lightly. "Really. Last time I checked, Hermione Granger knew far too much than could be expected from someone who grew up in the muggle world. You think she doesn't practice every night? She brings a new book back to the common room every day. And your friend Draco – well, all the Black children have been tutored since they were children. Privately. By some of the top wizards and witches in the world, including their own parents. And let's not ignore the other houses… that Longbottom boy has an innate knack for magic, no matter how much of a dimwit you all seem to think he is. Potter and Weasley may act like idiots, but Potter's been groomed to be the Chosen One since he was a mere babe. So if you'd like to be an idiot and not practice, go ahead. But just remember, knowledge is power. You'd learn that if you bothered to actually take these lessons seriously. And maybe remember that you're lucky enough to have a teacher, to benefit from others' hard-earned knowledge, instead of having to teach yourself."

Tom's words hit Harry like a punch to the gut. But it was too late – Tom was already silent, an empty void in Harry's head.

Harry stared at the candle across the room, and sank into the bed. Tom had never blocked him out before.

With an angry curse, he fell back into the pillows. But he wasn't tired. He wasn't tired in the slightly.

Harry turned to the side of his bed and, reaching for some parchment, began to make a list.

* * *

"Charles! _Charles!_ "

But Lady Potter's calls went unheeded. "Come on, Ron," Charles called over his shoulder, as he swung open the door to the hidden alcove of the library.

"Don't you have lessons now?" Ron said, slightly uneasy as he followed his friend into the room they'd seen Dumbledore and Charles' uncle disappear into the night before.

"Don't be such a wimp." The door shut neatly behind them, and Lady Potter's voice finally died out in the distance. They were standing in one of the rooms that overlooked the rolling hills. Outside, the snow was falling heavier than it had in the morning. They'd get at least a foot by dinner, if not more. Ron shivered instinctively, despite how warm he was. The room they were in was a comforting red and gold against the unforgiving backdrop. "I'm the Chosen One," Charles explained irritably, as he palmed through the papers on the round table in the middle of the room. "My aunt and uncle worry too much. I don't _need_ the lessons. You think He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was sitting down with some idiot Auror tutor? No. He was going off and killing people."

Ron bit his lip. Charles was usually right about this sort of thing, but his aunt scared him and she'd give him hell. Lady Potter always blamed him when Charles skipped his lessons.

"Don't worry," Charles said grandly, guessing correctly the source of Ron's nervousness. "I'll tell her it was my idea to skip the lesson." Charles also always said that, and always never actually got around to telling his aunt. Ron resigned himself to his fate and walked over to the book Charles was leafing through. "Besides, we have much better things to do. After Dumbledore left last night, I snuck in here. They'd left this book out by accident. Uncle always forgets that I can get in here since it's only locked against non-Potters – _don'_ t you dare remind him – so I always snuck in as a kid," he said boastfully. " _Here_." He pointed to the page where the book's ribbon had opened to. Despite being a fairly new book, it was marked up. On the top of the page, the name "Nicholas Flamel" was circled several times.

"Nicholas Flamel?" Ron said in surprise. "He sounds familiar…"

Charles interrupted him with a wave. "Yes, yes, he's the inventor of the philosopher's stone. It's very powerful. See? It says so right here." He pointed to a sentence that had been underlined thoroughly in bright red, disregarding the reading in between. " _That's_ what they're hiding on the third floor!" Charles crowed triumphantly. "Don't you see?" He pointed to some very coherent scribbles next to the words. "Cerberus – that's the three-headed dog we saw – Devil's Snare, Flying Keys, Wizard's Chess, troll, potions. That has to be what's guarding it!"

"Wizard's chess?" Ron echoed. "That's so easy. That's what they have guarding it?"

"I know. Between the two of us, we've got this covered easily. A _troll_? Remember how I beat one of those when it wandered into the quidditch pitch?" Charles closed the book dismissively, conveniently forgetting that he had done no such thing and that it was the house elves who had bashed the troll's brains in first with a flying pot while he shot off some lights from his broom. "And you can handle the chess," he said after a moment, throwing Ron a bone.

Ron nodded in agreement. "… So what now?"

"Well, we have to rescue it!" said Charles grandly. "Clearly, it's in danger, just like Dumbledore said. Or it'd be hidden somewhere else."

"But who's trying to steal it?" Ron wondered aloud. "You-Know-Who is gone."

"Clearly one of the Slytherins," Charles replied. "I've thought about it a lot. My bet's on Malfoy."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense." Ron frowned. "But what does it do again?"

"It's _very powerful_ ," Charles repeated, as if Ron were a dimwit. "Malfoy probably wants it for some evil ritual. Stuff like that only has bad uses."

* * *

Harry paused as he reached for the book and smiled. Fia was yelping in joy in the distance – but he only paused for a second, and then pulled it out to add to the growing pile. There were five now, and - _there's the last one_. Sirius hadn't even blinked an eye when he asked for recommendations on basic magical training, and had instantly rattled over several books that covered the basics and more, including, it seemed, wandless magic and affinities. He'd even given them permission to bring them back to Hogwarts… without any instructions on how to hide them. Huh.

He checked the texts again. They were legal, but barely. Given that no one at Hogwarts had ever mentioned wandless magic, or any sort of magical training before school, it probably wasn't something they'd smile at. In other words, just what he was looking for.

Levitating the books behind him, he sat down in one of the armchairs by the fire and put a pile of parchment on the table next to him. Cracking open a book with his left hand, he balanced the quill in his other. Almost immediately, Harry began to take notes. A lot of what the author focused on was endurance – he recommended jumping rope, but not weight training. Interesting, considering what'd he'd seen the Quidditch team doing. Or at least the beaters. Draco had tried to push him to try out for the team after he'd seen him fly. Maybe he'd go for seeker? Hooch hadn't even let them go above five feet, which was a bit useless since they'd probably need to fly in the future at some point.

The second chapter was a bit more grounded in magical theory. Levitation… now that was interesting. He remembered doing the practice with Tom's help, but he hadn't done it recently. Candle training. It would take him longer to learn, but he'd be stronger for it.

By the end of the first book, it was nearly one. He had a full list on the parchment of suggestions to revise his training. Harry glanced over it, but he'd have to go more in depth later – he needed to grab lunch before his session with Sirius. By tonight, he'd have a full schedule of exercises each day.

Tom still hadn't said anything all day.

Harry shot down the ugly feeling of guilt in his gut. He stretched widely as he stood up, but then smiled: Kreacher had left a plate of sandwiches for him. As nice as Hogwarts was, it was nice to be home.

"Enjoying the reading, Harry?" Sirius leaned casually against the doorway. The door locked behind him. "No, no have some lunch," he added, as Harry awkwardly try to stop eating. "I thought I'd come to you for our lesson. The office gets a bit stuffy when I stay in it all day." He settled into one of the armchairs, snagging one of the sandwiches for himself.

"What were you working on?" asked Harry, curious. He sat back down, moving the books to the side so he could put his plate down. The parchment rolled up with a wave of his wand.

"Eh, this and that," Sirius said, waving his hand. "Working with your mother for a bit, actually," he added. "In case of anything happening – not that anything _will happen_ – just in case, we've worked it out so that you have access to the Black vaults. As well as Fia and Draco and Nymphadora. Transferring some of our more delicate items over to the vaults, of course. For appearances' sake, no Steward vault."

Harry chewed his sandwich thoughtfully. He'd known since Sirius found him in the park that they'd been worried about the ministry watching them – he wasn't blind. Even though he loved 12 Grimmuald, it'd still been jarring to move there after that year at Andromeda's house. "Wouldn't the ministry be able to raid it?" he asked, after swallowing.

"No," Sirius replied, shaking his head. "The goblins hate the ministry. They're still qualified as beasts, and they treat them like it. They'll never give up their vaults, and the ministry knows better than to try. There's too much magic guarding them. When you get down that deep, there's a dragon as well. I'll take you down there when we have some time. How were the books?" He changed the subject after a pause. "Did you find what you wanted?"

"Yes." Harry bit his lip. "Sirius," he asked suddenly, "is there something I should be preparing for?"

Sirius was too good at masking his feelings for Harry to guess at what he thought of the question, but he didn't seem surprised. "Your mother has asked – "

"Not to tell me anything?" Harry interrupted in annoyance. "I'm – "

"No, that I tell you several things if you ever asked," Sirius continued calmly, ignoring his outburst. Harry shut up, that feeling of guilt returning. "You're aware that both you and your mother are in hiding due to certain events that happened during the war. We won't get into those details only because you haven't learned the shield you mind properly yet, and neither your mother nor I would see you in trouble. In regards to preparing… well, the ministry is watching. This family has a certain reputation. Slytherins have a certain reputation. Perhaps deserved. But they're only watching because they think we might be practicing dark magic. Longbottom in particular – the head of the Aurors, you might have met his son – has kept a tight leash on us."

Harry remembered the cold eyes burning on the back of his head. "Dumbledore," he echoed. "You didn't mention him." He met Sirius' stare directly, unexpectedly startled by the contrast. "He's not just watching…"

"He thinks that the... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will return," Sirius replied. "The Ministry does not."

"Do you?"

Sirius looked at him, slightly surprised now. "Perhaps. Perhaps not," he said, after a long pause. "But," he added, "you don't need to worry about that." Sirius saw the look that crossed Harry's face and chuckled. "I don't mean it that way," he added. "It's – ah – well, it's your choice. The purpose of this training is not to make you – well, that sounds bad. It's to give you options. It's so when the time comes, you'll be in a place where you can make your own decisions. To choose your own path. I hope you realize that. I _want_ you to know that."

Harry shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the sudden emotion. He glanced over at the fire. "Yeah," muttered Harry. "I – um – thank you," he looked back at Sirius, a little shy now, hit with the sudden realization of the trust Sirius was giving him. "I – so, I was practicing the mind exercises you gave me," he added.

"Of course," Sirius said gravely, doing his best to hide the amusement in his face. "Well. Let's start. We're only going to discuss more of the theoretical today. Close your eyes and find the empty space within yourself – you'll practice more alone, but you should be able to call that up immediately."

"And the purpose of that is to hide the mind?" Harry asked, sitting up in his chair, alert.

Sirius shrugged. "In a way. Think of it as – well, it's more of nonexistence. If I want to read your mind, I have to find it first. Eventually, you'll find the technique that works best for you. Most magic folk either choose to continue with this track or create a hiding spot in their mind – well – it could be similar to a library, for example. Mediation is the first step towards learning both." He was really picking up steam now – he could have made a great teacher, Harry noted. "If that works better – some people struggle to find the void – its done by picturing your mind as a familiar place. Memories become objects. So tell me," Sirius lectured, "what are the pros and cons of each?"

Harry thought for a second. "If you can achieve it, clearing your mind would be the better option," he said slowly, looking to Sirius for approval. His face was blank, so Harry just plunged in. "But you'd have to get there. If there was anything left – or even if you got startled – there's no defense. Memories as objects… so they would have to find the right object? You could lock some inside boxes. They'd have to find the key. But if the goal is to find the memory – so they'd be open to the experience if they choose the wrong one… I could use bad memories to protect myself," Harry said quietly.

"Correct," Sirius said. "Some of the greatest wizards and witches have been known to deliberately torture themselves to be able to use those memories. It has been theorized that naturally formed memories, however, are much more potent."

"Do they have to be memories of physical pain?" Harry questioned. "Or would – um –"

Sirius caught him. "Emotional or physical. I myself use –" His voice trailed off for a second. "Well," he continued, softer, "some use memories of loss. Many wizards and witches underestimate how devastating certain emotions will hit them. Or how certain feelings of happiness and euphoria can trap a person. That being said, you are still using a memory and opening it up to them. Most people cannot separate only the pain to protect the memory. But you don't need to decide this now – you're focusing on learning the basics."

"Does –"

The downstairs door banged open with a crash, and Sirius leapt to his feet, twisting the ring on his finger. "Ah," he said quietly, his mind somewhere else.

"Sirius –"

Sirius turned to him, and Harry nearly shivered under the gaze. This was no longer Uncle Sirius, his protector, but Lord Black, heir and master to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. His eyes were now dark pools, and with a breath, Harry realized once again how untrained and unready he was. Sirius' magic – normally just a slight edge around him – was wrapped around him in a deafening fog. No, not a fog: a star, a brilliant, shining star that left everything else behind in the darkness.

Harry understood Tom's words better now. _Raw magic... raw energy._

Lord Black frowned, and slowly, the magic began to disappear until it once more had receded into the edge of Harry's consciousness. "The Ministry has decided to pay us a visit," he said coolly. "And they've already let themselves in."

Harry twisted in his seat, very aware at that moment how much he was not part of Sirius' family. It was an odd moment to have the realization, he knew, since it was entirely possible the Ministry had arrived to round the whole family up and ship them off to Azkaban. "So, um, should I stay here…?"

"No," Sirius replied after a pause. "I have an idea. Harry… yes, this might just work. Keep close behind me," he said, his voice brisk. "Do you mind play acting a bit?"

"What should I do?" asked Harry, curious at the request.

"Act scared." Sirius eyed him critically. "They know you're friends with Draco, and they've seen you here before, so we can't hide that. But don't stand up as straight as you usually do. And stick to my side – don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

Harry nodded, relieved by the directions. He followed Sirius as they made their way down the stairs, utterly aware of the unnerving silence that surrounded them. But Sirius never hurried. As they rounded the second floor, the aurors came into view. There were four standing in the foyer, blocked only by a frigidly angry Rhia. Slowly, Sirius made his way down, step by step. "Auror Longbottom," Sirius said, nodding his head in the smallest sign of respect. "To what to I owe the pleasure?" But Harry's eyes ran straight past the chief Auror. To his shock, he met Nymphadora's eyes. She stared straight past him, her body steeled.

"Mr. Black – "

"Lord Black," Sirius interrupted. Longbottom glared at him.

"Lord Black," he said coldly. "I believe you know my colleagues, Aurors Moody and Bones."

"We've met," the older man – Moody? – in the back interrupted. "You took a fair bit of my leg off too, Lord Black." To Harry's surprise, the man almost seemed pleased at the statement.

"And of course your niece, who's training with us." Longbottom continued on, as if pretending Moody hadn't said a word.

"Ah, my cousin's daughter," Sirius replied, his voice blank. "I'm afraid it's been a while. That's the problem with large families, of course." He didn't even turn to acknowledge Nymphadora. At the bottom of the stairs, Fia was scowling at the visitors next to her mother. "Now, is there something I can do for you?"

Longbottom studied him for a moment. "I've come to serve a warrant," he said abruptly. "The Minister has authorized a search of your home."

"If that is the Minister's wish," Sirius replied, dragging out each and every word, "then I urge you to follow it as quickly through as possible."

"Of course." The thin man paused, his eyes glinting in the darkened foyer. "Bones, take the fourth floor. Moody, the third. Tonks, you're to stay with –"

"I'll take her," Bones interrupted. She stepped forward, brushing past Moody as she did so. Bones seemed slightly younger than Moody, but her height was intimidating. Harry had a vague remembrance of a Susan Bones in Hufflepuff – maybe they were related? Longbottom nodded curtly at Bones, who swept past him and up the stairs. Tonks followed in her shadow. As they went by, Sirius pushed him to the side of the stairs, but the two witches barely acknowledged them. Moody followed after a heartbeat, limping up the stairs on a wooden leg. Soon, only Longbottom and the Blacks were left.

"Rhiannon, isn't it?" Longbottom stayed where he was. Harry had some vague sense that he was the same age as Sirius and Rhia, but his face was lined with hard edges that made him seem years older. "And your daughter? Has she started at Hogwarts yet?"

Rhia held Iphigenia close to her. Usually the rambunctious one, Fia didn't even struggle against her mother's grip. Instead, she stared up at the auror who loomed over her. "Lady Black. And no, not yet," Rhia said curtly.

"Of course," Longbottom replied, but his tone was short. He turned to Sirius. "And… your son?" Somehow, Harry knew that Longbottom was well aware he wasn't Sirius' son. He was the sort of man who let no detail escape him.

"Steward?" Sirius said dismissively, cutting through Longbottom's question. "His mother works for us." He pushed Harry forward. "Here, question him if you'd like."

"That's not necessary –"

"If you could wrap this up quickly, Frank," Rhia interrupted, "we do have family coming for dinner." Her tone made it clear it wasn't a question.

"Of course," replied the auror, after a brief pause. "Let me – I'll go inspect the second floor myself now." He seemed to stare at Rhia in surprise, but she met his gaze with her own cool stare. "I'll go now," he repeated, heading up the stairs.

"Steward, inform Kreacher to clean the dining room again after they've left," Sirius said curtly, just after the auror passed them. "My dear – shall we sit for a moment?"

Harry glanced up. Longbottom had paused at the top of the stairs, but his expression was unreadable. After a moment, he disappeared.

"Steward," Sirius warned. Harry jumped a little, then made his way down the stairs to Kreacher's quarters.

* * *

When Lily heard of the aurors' raid, a slow chill had come over her. It had been lucky – too lucky – for them all that she hadn't been there. But what would happen if she was caught? How would the Potters explain away the strange tale – that she had been alive, too afraid for nearly half a lifetime to return to her beloved husband and son. And Harry… there simply was no way to explain away Harry. Sirius was weaving a tight tale – too tight. Soon he'd be caught in the middle.

She grimaced as she passed her reflection. Her once bright red hair and striking green eyes had dulled to a dark brown. Maybe it was vanity, but Lily longed to be herself again. With a pause, she swept into her son's room.

It wasn't the mess she'd expected. The top of the open trunk revealed neat piles of books and clothes. In the corner of the room, Harry was directing the packing with his wand – or, she corrected herself, without one.

"Oh, hi mum," Harry said as he turned around, yawning.

"Harry," Lily greeted him, the smile spreading across her face as she leaned against the doorway, drinking in the sight of her only child. He was taller – he'd never be towering, her sister had seen to that – and he'd started to grow into it. Slender, too. His fine black hair fell flat across his face. She'd have to make sure he got a haircut soon.

He looked nothing like James, and though she pushed the thought of that thing back as soon as she thought it, it was still so wonderful to know. He would never look anything like him.

"Are you almost ready?" she asked. It'd been too short of a break.

"In a second," Harry replied. "Almost – okay." The trunk closed, the lock clicking into place. With a wave, it was off the bed. "Are you…?"

Lily bit her lip. "You'll have to go back the same way you came," she said, taking a moment to pause. "It'll be safer." _But not easier_.

Her son paused as well, staring back at her. "Ok," he said finally, holding back the same words. With two steps, he strode forward and hugged her.

Lily leaned in. Both hugged each other too tightly.

"Mother," Harry said, his voice muffled. He leaned back. "I…" His head tilted to the side as he considered her. "Tom says to tell you he'll keep his promise," he said at last.

She didn't betray a thought, instead reaching out to brush the hair out of his eyes. "I know," she murmured, looking into her son's eyes. "He has already."

All three were silent – or, at least, two were – as they stood there for those long seconds. "You should get going," she told him finally. "The train will be leaving soon."

* * *

The goodbyes felt like meaningless words as the room turned cold and the door downstairs shut with a clang. Lily pulled her robes closer to her and strode out of the room towards the library.

"Lily!" the voice called up the stairs.

"Andromeda." She greeted the witch warmly, welcome for the distraction. "How did you – "

"I apparated," Andromeda said with a scowl. "Perks of the family house, I suppose. They've been tracking my floo. Not too subtle about it, either – if they even know how to be. Untalented little fools. That sort of idiocy would have gotten them killed during the war."

"Why are they even watching you?" Lily asked curiously, letting herself be distracted.

"Because they think I'd come running to my cousins," Andromeda said frankly. "They're right, of course, but I'm still very insulted. I left my family to marry Ted, Nymphadora's joined the Aurors, I've done my best to be friendly to every witch and wizard Dumbledore sends through my doors, and still I'm left out in the cold."

"Build a fire," Lily replied drily. "Burn all the idiots up in it."

"I knew I should have listened when mother wanted to teach me about Fiendfyre." Andromeda chuckled. "They've all decided I'm a Dark Witch, and I barely know any Dark Magic. Might come in handy one of these days."

"No, but you have other talents. I've seen how talented a Herbologist you are."

"That's what drew me to Ted," the older witch said wistfully. "Flitwick was so upset with me – he thought Charms was more worthwhile a pursuit."

"Flitwick can go bugger himself," Lily replied, still sour at the mention of the Charms Professor's name. "Funny how he didn't think it worthwhile for _me_."

"Probably for the best," advised Andromeda. "Just think. If you had – well, okay, we probably still would have been friends."

Lily laughed. "I prefer Potions now, anyways. Do you have the ingredients I asked for?"

"Belladonna? Yes, fresh from my garden."

"Thank you. The herbologist in Diagon Alley – "

Andromeda waved her words away. "You don't have to say another word. I completely understand." She paused on the stairwell, turning to Lily. "And…" She seemed to turn the words around a few times in her mind before she looked up at her friend. "Tell me what else you need. Whatever you need. I understand. Just be careful with the dosage, okay?"

Lily studied her carefully. "Thank you," she repeated softly, but she didn't explain further. Andromeda was tired, she realized, startled. Her dark hair seemed flat under the light now, and there were lines there that had never been there before, even during the war. "Is everything alright?"

Smiling wanly, Andromeda shrugged.

"Nymphadora?" Lily asked, frowning. "I did hear from Sirius – "

"They told her only a few seconds before they left and ordered her to come with them," Andromeda said quietly. "She's a trainee, she wasn't supposed to go at all. They've treated it like some sort of promotion, like it was some big prize that she was allowed to go out with them. It's not, it's all a lie – "

"Sirius and Rhia know she didn't want to do it," Lily interrupted. "We all do."

"Oh, the two of them couldn't have been more kind about it," replied Andromeda. "Even little Fia came up to give me a hug. And that just kills me more. Nymphadora has wanted to be an auror ever since they came to Hogwarts her first year and told the students it was a new age of peace, that if they studied hard, they could be like them. Hogwash. They've put her through more hoops than any other trainee and when she aced them all, they threw more at her. She's been at the top at most of everything, even with the new program they've made for the younger recruits. And still…"

Lily squeezed her friend's arm comfortingly. "She'll be out in two years," she reminded her. "Then she'll have a permanent detail. They won't be able to send her on missions randomly."

"They'll find a way," Andromeda said, scowling. "It'd be one thing if they were monitoring every witch and wizard – I would understand that – but they've given us this bullshit about peace and prosperity when it doesn't even apply to everyone. Every time I was over at Molly's, her silly husband was bringing home this or that from his job. Imagine – dangerous magical artifacts, in a house with seven children! They're all the same. No witch or wizard in Britain respects our idiotic laws, everyone knows that. So why not reform them? It'd be a better use of time then sending my daughter to tear apart her family home." Andromeda closed her eyes for a moment. "Enough," she said at last, her voice determined. "I came to help you on whatever idiotic idea you've come up with now. So let's get to it."

"You won't like it," Lily informed her. "I can't even tell you the specifics. Bellatrix was helping me before she left for France."

Andromeda nodded approvingly. "So you're now practicing illegal dark magic?"

"Worse. It'll mean Azkaban or the dementors if we're caught." Lily felt the determination rise up in her chest again. _It would be worth it_.

"Bellatrix is really rubbing off on you then." She paused for a moment. "Well, what else are friends for?" she finally replied dryly. "Let's go."

* * *

The snow melted slowly as winter moved into spring, revealing the budding young flowers outside. But inside the castle, the change in seasons seemed to pull back more and more ugly cracks in the utopian façade of Hogwarts. An odd feeling of being watched had seemed to spring up overnight. What had seemed like strong coincidences of the work of Nicholas Flamel popping up everywhere now seemed like a strange obsession. There were weekly reminders not to go near the third floor. Sometime in March, Gryffindor lost one hundred points in a night – something Potter and Weasley had done, apparently, though none of the Gryffindors blamed them. More concerning, Dumbledore, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Quirell seemed constantly on edge as if waiting for a sword to fall.

Harry had fallen into a good routine by that point. It helped immensely that his house, like Ravenclaw, encouraged learning. Even with Tom back talking to him, sometimes it was slightly helpful to have an older student to demonstrate the precise wand movements.

Classes were usually the worst part of the day. Somebody had thought it was a good idea to pair the Slytherins with the Gryffindors for every class – seemingly to promote friendship between the notorious rivals, though every teacher seemed content to let the two groups sit apart, glaring at one another. Harry knew that the Slytherins were absolutely to blame for at least some of the discord, but the Gryffindors started it a good number of times as well. Not a day went by without Potter and Weasley throwing some insult, usually at Draco or, strangely, Hermione. They seemed to take it personally that a Muggleborn had sided with the Slytherins.

Potions was obviously Slytherins' favorite class, but Harry liked it beyond that simply because Professor Snape encouraged them to think on their own. Harry had found that figuring out the particular uses of ingredients in potions and the result they were meant to produce often led elsewhere than the directions, a problem he enjoyed solving.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, though, was the biggest disappointment. As bad as a teacher that Quirell undoubtedly was, it was made altogether worse by his refusal to speak of anything other than his semi-worship of Dark Wizards and Witches, as well as his constant staring. Not at Harry, but at Charles Potter, who as usual preened under the attention.

And then, of course, there was the staring Potter and Weasley did.

"Don't look up," Draco muttered under his breath as they were leaving dinner one day in the spring. "The idiots are following us again."

"Don't they have anything better to do?" Tracey replied, scowling. "That's the third time this week –"

"They're getting antsy, too," Draco replied. "Maybe if we cut for the library –"

"Usually I'd agree with her," Tom cut in. "But might be best to just confront them. This is getting tiresome and you have better things to do."

Hermione had the same idea it seemed, because suddenly she just turned around and raised her wand at the Gryffindors. "What do you two _want_?" She was visibly annoyed as she stood in the center of the corridor. She'd been on edge ever since break. "You've been following us for weeks now. Give it up and get lost."

Potter and Weasley froze as they rounded the corner behind them. But Draco, Tracey, and Harry had already followed Hermione's lead and had their wands out discreetly by their side. "I wouldn't do that," Tracey warned, as Potter started to pull his out.

"Give it up, Malfoy," Potter spat out at last. "We know what you're up to. And it won't work."

"You'll have to refresh my memory," Draco said drily, stepping up to stand by Hermione's side. "I'm up to so many things these days."

"We know," Potter repeated, angrily frustrated. "We're not idiots." The two of them just glowered at the lot of them, standing there looking precisely like idiots.

"You want to use the stone for yourself," Weasley cut in. "We already figured out your plan."

The world seemed to stop turning for Harry. _The stone_. They knew, they just had the wrong Black. It was only a matter of time –

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione said in surprise. "Why would we want that old thing?"

Suddenly it clicked for Harry. The Philosopher's Stone, the third floor, and Quirrell. Dumbledore thought that He-Who-Must Not-Be-Named was going to return. But it wasn't him…

He pushed past Hermione and Draco. "Get lost," he ordered Potter and Weasley sharply. "We have better things to do." Harry turned around before they could even move. "Come on," he said to the Slytherins. "They can't follow us to the common rooms."

Well, they could, he amended, as the two Gryffindors dogged them all the way down to the dungeons. Tom was in his head the entire time. "You're not going after the Philosopher's Stone, Harry," he repeated again. "It's a trap. You're absolutely too young, and I refuse to get you hurt. This is _stupid_. It's useless, anyways. What in Merlin's hell would you use it for -"

"Not me," Harry shot back. "Quirrell. Even as useless as he is, he could still do quite a bit of damage with eternal life and gold."

Tom shut up, but only for a moment. "It's still too dangerous. You'll –"

"What should I do then? Go to the teachers? _Dumble_ –"

"They're all out of town," Tom said in sudden realization. "Dumbledore wasn't at breakfast or dinner today. Neither were Snape or McGonagall."

Harry felt the shock run through him that a jolt of ice water as they entered the common room. Three of the professors gone… Tom was right, it would be tonight.

"Idiots," Hermione repeated, running a hand through her unruly hair tiredly. "Well," she said, when no one responded, each lost in their own thoughts. "I'm going to my room. I have to finish studying for Transfiguration, and then I think I'm gonna crash." The auburn-haired girl yawned.

With quiet murmurs of agreement, the rest of the group split up. Most of the house had already turned in for the night, it seemed, but there were still a few studying here or there.

 _Good_ , Harry thought reflexively. _It'll make it easier to sneak out._

* * *

As he waited out the long hours until the clock struck eleven in his room, Harry fell silent. He could still sense Tom's disapproval, but he pushed him and it away. It was a strange night. But he couldn't stop the thoughts whirling through his head. What if Quirell had already gotten to the stone?

Or worse, what if Potter had?

When the clock struck eleven, the castle came to a standstill.

Even though Harry had sneaked out hundreds of times before, suddenly it seemed that every step he took gave off a creak. Turning his head, he could have sworn he caught sight of himself in every mirror he passed; but when he looked again, there was nothing but empty space. Finally, he came to the entrance –

"You know," remarked the discombobulated voice of Hermione Granger, "if you're going to use a disillusionment charm, you need to also muffle your footsteps."

With a scowl, Harry took the charm off himself. Sitting in an armchair he'd missed opposite the entrance was the dark-haired witch, drinking a cup of tea. "You're so good at that, but you always forget to muffle yourself," she said with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "You said you were going to bed."

"Yes, she did say that, didn't she," yawned Tracey behind him. Harry jumped slightly, startled. "Oh, calm down. And Draco's here too, so don't wake the whole house just because you're scared of the dark," she added.

"I – oh, go fly a kite," Harry said to no one in particular. "What are you all doing here?"

"Well, I was going to go to bed," Draco drawled. "But then I said to myself, wow, Hermione and Harry were so awfully easy to convince to not stay up, something must be up, since whenever you do that it means you're sneaking out."

"No it –"

"Yes, it does," Tracey cut the two of them off straight away. "Don't give us that blarney, it's not as if we care anyways."

"You two can't really be mad enough to go after the stone?" demanded Draco. "What if you're caught? You'll be expelled straight away. It's not as if they need more reasons, they already distrust all of us Slytherins."

"So?" Hermione replied. "I – actually, I'm not getting into this argument. Someone is going to go steal that stone tonight, and I'm not going to let them. Harry?"

"Well," Harry said unhappily, "I don't want to get you hurt –"

"Bugger off," Hermione replied quite frankly. "I don't give a damn. I'm more than capable of protecting myself, even if I don't sneak out every night like you do. Tracey, Draco, are you coming?"

"Yes –"

"I can't," Draco cut in, just as Tracey agreed. The three of them just looked at him.

"You're right," Hermione interjected, before Harry or Tracey could say anything. "Potter went after you first," she continued. "You can't do this. If they find you down there, regardless of what we say, everyone's going to think you're trying to steal it for your father."

"That doesn't mean I can't help, though," Draco argued. "Most of the professors have left, but I'm going to get ahold of Uncle Severus. He'll be able to help far more than I could."

"You're right," Harry nodded. "Ok. Well, Tracey – Hermione?"

The two followed him silently out of the corridor, Hermione pausing to give Draco a hug. The castle was utterly silent. Not one portrait they passed seemed to be occupied, while Peeves was nowhere to be found. Even the owls, who could usually be heard somewhere in the far skies, seemed to be present that night.

Soon, they found themselves in front of the door on the third floor. A faint sound of music could be heard.

Tracey pushed open the door cautiously.

The sight of the three-headed dog stopped them all in their tracks for a moment, but it soon became clear it was sleeping. A loud snore came out of the mouth of the head on the left, while the right head was laying sideways, the drool spilling out onto the ground. Next to it, a harp played by itself.

"Cerberus," Tracey said out loud. "What?" she asked, at the look the two gave her. "I love Greek mythology. Anyways, it falls asleep when music plays."

Hermione sent a spell towards the harp, and suddenly it seemed to play a little more enthusiastically. "There. It'll keep for another hour. Now where –"

"Over there," Harry cut in, leading the two girls behind him. "I think this is our way forward."

The three of them stared at the pit of withering vines below them.

"Does anyone else find it odd that we went over Devil's Snare for an entire month in Herbology?" Tracey remarked drily. "Well, anyways, _incendio_."

The vines pulled back in a mere second, retreating as fast as possible from the fire that licked their edges. "Come on," Hermione said, eying the floor below them. It was probably about five feet deep.

After they'd brushed themselves off from the dirt on the ground, the three Slytherins progressed through a darkened corridor. Harry tried to light his wand, only for the light to slowly flicker out. But it didn't matter: soon they found themselves at a door. After a slight pause, Harry reached out and opened it.

The – birds? – ran for the ceiling as soon as they entered. It was a wild, flute like sound that echoed across the room. Tracey spotted the broomstick first, dropped on the other side of the room. "They're keys, Harry," she shouted. "But – "

Hermione and Harry ran over to her. Someone had already been there: the key was fluttering, locked in the doorway, its wings bruised and bent. Hermione made a small noise of disapproval. "Useful for us, but so sloppy," she muttered. "Come on. And bring the broom, it might be helpful."

Tracey nodded in agreement. With a slight push, the doorway to the next room opened.

The next room took their breath away. "McGonagall's work," Tom murmured in his head. "She was always quite brilliant." Harry had to agree: as terrifying as the life size statues were, they were clearly crafted as a work of art.

Cautiously, they approached the statues in front of them. There was no way around the chess board, but as they came forward, it became clear they perhaps wouldn't need a way around. It was like the scene of a battle. Marble lay strewn across the floor, knights in pieces on the ground. No one seemed in the mood to say a word as they passed the decapitated kings and queens. As terrifying as it might have been to play the game, Harry was quite glad they didn't have to.

Before they opened the next door, though, Hermione stopped them. "Listen," she whispered urgently. It soon became clear what had caught Hermione's attention.

"A troll?" Tracey wondered aloud. "But – "

Somebody was trying to pull the door open on the other side, Harry realized quickly. "They can't get back through. The doors lock automatically," he whispered.

"Tracey, go with Harry on the broom," Hermione ordered suddenly. "Whatever you do, keep flying –"

"But –"

"We'll be blamed if those two idiots died because of a troll and their own stupidity," Hermione reminded them. "Besides, I hate flying, and I'd just pull you down. Three can't sit on that broomstick. Better you two go than me. Now, when I pull open the door, _fly_."

The screams reached them as soon as Hermione opened the door. So too did the stench; it was all Harry could do not to throw up. Tracey kicked them off from the ground and they were suddenly in the air. Below them, Harry could just make out Hermione pulling the two boys to the side – thank Merlin it hadn't been Quirell – before the troll charged. But he had to look forward, and with a whip of his wand he commanded the door before them to open. They fell on the ground with a bang, the door shutting them into the darkness.

Harry swallowed as they rose. If the three before them had been Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall's contributions, this was without a doubt Snape's. "Logic," Harry whispered. "Got any experience with that?" he asked Tracey. He paced up the row as she read the poem left by the side of the table. Finally, she spoke.

"Harry," she said frankly, "only one of us can go ahead."

"Oh."

Somehow he'd known it would come down to this.

"Harry," she repeated. "I don't – no, don't interrupt. I know there's something going on with you. You're not the same as us, even if you pretend to be." Her eyes flicked to the potions, and she picked out two. "Life or death," she said grimly. "One'll send you forward, one back."

Harry took the one on the left, and with a grimace, downed it. It was as bitter as he thought it'd be. "Make sure Hermione gets out of there," he told Tracey, who scoffed.

"She doesn't need my help." Tracey squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Come back, Steward," she told him, as she stepped back through the door.

"Harry, don't do this," Tom said suddenly, taking sudden advantage of Harry's distraction.

"I have to." He looked between the flames and the bottle in his hand. They would protect him... or would they?

"No, you don't." Tom's voice was quiet, but no less forceful for it. "It's not your war. So what if Quirrell gets the stone? So what -"

"Because someone has to stop him. Before he uses it to hurt anyone."

"It doesn't have to be you -"

The fire he passed through only burned a little. It was more of a tickle, really, than anything else.

"I was expecting Potter," his professor complained in a high-pitched whine as he stepped into the light. "That would have been the crowning jewel in my achievement here tonight, killing the Boy Who Lived and taking this stupid stone. But you and Dumbledore have quite managed to ruin both."

"I didn't do a thing, professor," Harry said cautiously, as he made his way down the steps. "I –"

"Oh, you rude little thing, shut up," Quirell complained. "I'm so sick of all you brats. Stupid, puny little runt. Always watching me. Always making fun of poor, idiotic, stuttering Quirell – well, you stupid little thing, I've won, haven't I? I bet you thought it was someone else coming to steal the stone, didn't you?"

"Snape," Harry let himself blurt out. "We thought it was Snape."

"Hah," Quirell replied. "Hah hah hah… as if he would ever do such a terrible thing. He's Dumbledore's pet, you know. He's been watching me all year." His sickly little voice echoed around the vast chamber around them. With a jolt, Harry realized in surprise that it was the same room he'd found himself in in the fall. And, he noted, with the same mirror…

Dumbledore's challenge.

Harry nearly groaned as he realized he could have saved them all the trouble all those months ago.

"Funny little enchantment, isn't it?" Quirell wouldn't look away from the mirror in front of him. "Dumbledore always liked his jokes. But as soon as I figure this out, I'll be long gone, and I'll be better than the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named then. Better then he ever was, that miserable little soul, rotting in the Dark Forest, thinking I was just some puny wizard –"

"Albania?" Tom wondered aloud, but quickly cut himself off. "Harry, watch out –"

"Oh, no matter," Quirell said dismissively, finally turning to face the eleven-year-old. "You'll have to go either way. I just can't let you leave. You'd tell Dumbledore, and then where would I be? Avada –"

"Run," Tom advised with a growl, and Harry leapt out of the way just as the green bolt passed him. But soon enough, the floor around him had been set on fire. Even with Harry tossing one or two curses, he was badly outmatched by the mediocre Dark Lord wannabe.

"Give up, boy," Quirell whined, as Harry hid behind one of the pillars, the heat licking his face. "Nobody knew who you were to begin with, and they'll be just as quick to forget your name. You're nobody – "

"Harry, let me protect you," Tom said urgently. "I can –"

"Go," Harry whispered. "Please."

As Harry let himself fall into the void, dimly aware of Tom taking control of his body, the pillar exploded and he was cast onto the floor.

The world seemed to spin around him. He tried to lift his head, but it was too painful. His hands seemed to be running with blood – was that his blood? It was too –

"You _fool_ ," the voice in his head hissed, except this time it wasn't in his head. "You will die for this." Harry tried to look up, but what he saw made no sense. Tom was there, but not, and he seemed to charge at the professor in front of him. There was screaming, loud screaming, but then, it just all… seemed to stop.

Someone was yelling about the Boy Who Lived, but that wasn't right. He wasn't the Boy Who Lived. Voldemort. Who was Voldemort?

Where was Tom? He could explain all of this.

But with a burst of light, the world seemed to shatter.

* * *

He awoke to the familiar voice. "My dear girls," the Headmaster said quite sweetly. "Whatever were you thinking? You could have been killed."

Someone was talking in the distance, but Harry didn't open his eyes. His head still hurt – still? What had happened? It all seemed so faint, so full of nothing. They wouldn't shut up, though, and kept talking for too long.

As Dumbledore's footsteps faded into the distance, Harry let himself slowly take in the sunlight. He was in the Hospital Wing, he realized. Bandaged. His arm was a little numb. His leg… he couldn't move them, any of them.

"Tom?" He yawned. Tom would have the answers, Tom always had them.

But only an empty void answered.

"Tom?" Harry repeated. Suddenly, he was awake. It all came rushing back – the troll, the potions, the –

"Tom? Tom? _Tom?"_


	7. When he himself

"When he himself"

"Harry," Lily began, but then paused. She didn't know quite how to continue. It was nearly the end of August. Soon, Harry would be back at Hogwarts, taken away from her yet again.

Her son clenched the side of the book he was reading, but didn't look up. His hands had changed from slender to bony; his hair, a matted black. He hadn't had to tell her what had happened. He looked like her - and now he looked like the same way she had when her grandfather passed.

Lily frowned. Yes, he looked like her, but he'd also get over the loss with time. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he'd lost the only real protector he had - the one he'd really need when the war finally came, or when Dumbledore found out who he truly was. Both were terrifying options.

"I'm leaving," she announced abruptly. The book dropped into his lap, his eyes flying to her.

" _What?_ "

"I'm leaving," repeated Lily. "To go abroad. To find... Tom." His name was still alien in her mouth. _How much did her son truly understand of the soul that had resided in his body for so long?_ she wondered. _Tom... Just Tom. Not the Dark Lord._

Her son curled up into the armchair, taking in the information. Finally, he spoke. "Tom." He seemed to turn the name over in his mouth, tasting it. "But I didn't -"

Lily interrupted him. "There's been some new developments." She continued on when Harry didn't respond. "It won't be for long," Lily said, trying to reassure both of them. "Anyways, you'll be at school -"

"But what if you leave too?" Harry cried out suddenly. "You don't have to go, I mean," he added, seeming a little ashamed at the sudden outburst. "It'll be dangerous. What if you get hurt?"

"Harry," Lily said lovingly, walking over to the armchair and pulling him into her arms. He didn't protest as much this time. "I can handle a little danger. I did go to Hogwarts, you know," she teased him.

"I don't want you to go," Harry said quietly, his voice a little muffled as he burrowed into her hug.

"I don't want to go either," replied Lily, drawing patterns in his hair. "But I know this is the best choice. Not just for you," she added, pulling away a little so he could study his face. "For all of us." She smiled. "And we'll have the mirrors. Whenever you want, you can talk to me. It won't be any different."

Harry pulled back for a moment, ducking his head so she couldn't see his face. "But Tom... Tom is gone," he said slowly. "Because if he was still here, he would have..."

"He might not be," Lily told her son slowly. "I don't want to give you false hope. But he might not be."

* * *

Lily stayed in the chair for a while after her son finally went to bed. The door opened quietly a little after the clock struck midnight.

"Sirius'll make sure he gets to the train safety tomorrow," Bella finally said, after the younger witch didn't acknowledge the sisters' presence.

"I know," Lily said abruptly.

Bellatrix swept into the library, helping herself to a glass of tea. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked finally. "Tea, Andromeda? Lily?" she added.

"No, thank you," Andromeda replied politely, settling herself into an armchair.

"Yes," Lily said after a second. "I've thought about if for quite a while, ever since the spring. You know it's the best way, too," she pointed out. "He needs to come back. It's not just for Harry - the aurors are still watching 12 Grimmuald, and Lucious' house was raided just a week ago. You know Dumbledore gave Weasley the order."

Bellatrix scowled. "Yes, normally I'd be the first to celebrate the Dark Lord's return. But I don't like the idea of you going into danger alone - especially with your son at Hogwarts already."

"Neither of you can come," Lily pointed out practically. "First off, they're tracking every witch and wizard leaving the country. Second, once Dumbledore knows you've left, he'll just follow you. You're the most obvious choice to go find the Dark Lord."

"He's lucky I didn't kill the annoying little twerp following me in France," growled Bellatrix. "Really, Azkaban would have been worth it. If there's anything I despise more than Dumbledore's minions, it's Dumbledore's _incompetent_ minions."

Andromeda shrugged. "At least he was incompetent. And now we know for sure they're following you."

"True." Bellatrix took a sip of her tea, and turned around to face the two as she leaned on the old wooden table. "I suppose I could go on a prolonged jaunt around the countryside."

"Careful about that," Lily warned. "You might lead them to something important. But since they'd be suspicious if you weren't doing anything anyways, you might as well go somewhere."

"Are you sure he's in Albania?" Bellatrix asked. "The Dark Forest... It's an awfully long way from England."

"His magic is centered there. All the rituals we've done - that's what they've shown." _Did Tom find his way there after the spring?_ She could only hope so. If the piece of his soul that remembered her best wasn't reunited with the Dark Lord... but no, His magic should have reunited them.

"Andromeda, what's the plan for tomorrow?" she asked, switching topics before she could get too much in her own head.

"You've got tickets for a plane out of Heathrow at two tomorrow. No magic until you get off - that's how they've caught some leaving without passports. Here's the bag with the money, all changed to the regular muggle currencies. You'll have access to a muggle bank once you're there, the information is inside. If you have to use Gringotts, ask for a private meeting. Passports - all legal, I might add - and the appropriate visas. A language dictionary. Some other odds and ends; you can pack your own clothes. Nothing magical, I'm afraid. You'll have to get that once you're safely out of the country."

"Andromeda," Bellatrix asked after a moment, raising an eyebrow, "how often do you _do_ this sort of thing?"

Andromeda chuckled. "I used to do it during the war," she admitted. "Most of the witches and wizards who were caught in the middle just left. It did help that - well -"

"You were a Black and Tonks was a muggleborn," Bellatrix said dryly. "Good to know you did something with our family name. Lily, are you all set?"

"As set as I'll every be," Lily responded, looking around inside the bag. "Anything else I should know?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "You've learned a lot of what Sirius and I know," she admitted. "It'd help to have more time to teach you, but you've done well so far. Once you get out there, you're on your own. Belladonna will help, you've practiced enough with that already. If - once you find Him, it'll be up to you to convince him. If our theory about the type of magic He used is right... well, pray to Merlin that who you find remembers you," she said frankly. "Otherwise, only talking will help at that point."

"Gee, thanks," Lily replied, not voicing her own same fears. "I'd best get off to bed then." She placed the tickets carefully back into the bag, and stood up. "If I, um..." she said, after a brief pause. "If something happens - take care of Harry. I don't..." Lily took a deep breath, and then looked at Bellatrix. "I don't want him fighting," she said frankly. "I can't stop him, but I don't want him forced to fight. He's not special, he's not some sort of weapon, he's my _son_. He's a child. Promise me that."

Bellatrix nodded without a pause. "You have my word."

"I thought you'd take more convincing," Lily said in amusement.

"I'm a mother too," Bellatrix pointed out. "Besides, you're risking more than any of us to find the Dark Lord. For that, I think I owe you a favor or two."

Andromeda stood up to say goodbye. "We'll look after him," she said, hugging her fiercely. "You'll be back before you know it."

"Of course," Lily said with a twisted smile. "Well, then. Goodbye."

* * *

"- nny! Ginny! _Ginny._ Get down here," Molly said with a huff, as she finally found her youngest daughter hiding up in the attic. " _What_ are you doing?"

"Reading," Ginny protested. She'd already stuffed the strange book beneath the dusty old couch and had a textbook propped open. "You said studying was important -"

"You can study later," Molly said briskly, pulling the textbook out of her hands and frowning. "And you should have taken a shower. Come on, get up,"

Ginny rolled her eyes. She loved her mother, except when the -

"The Potters are waiting downstairs," her mother announced. "Come on. You need to clean yourself up. And then I want you downstairs."

"Why do I even have to go?" Ginny said with a scowl. "I still need to pack a bit anyways."

"What?" her mother rounded on her. "I told you to do that last night! What do you mean, you haven't pack yet - you never listen to me!" Molly was right about that - Ginny had heard her say that, and deliberately left the packing until the last minute so she wouldn't have to talk to the Potters. Especially that horrid woman, who always liked to touch her hair. "I - no, fine," Molly said scowling, as she made her way back down the stairs. "Pack!" She ordered over her shoulder. "And then I want you downstairs in ten minutes - Charles is with your brother, and you should get to know him a bit better."

Ginny fell back onto the sofa with a huff as soon as she heard the door close. Charles Potter... _ugh_. She'd been forced to spend too much time with him already.

With a scowl, she grabbed the book from underneath the sofa and tucked it in between a few textbooks. The idiots would probably ruin it too if they found it.

* * *

By the end of the first day of classes, Harry was ready to punch a wall. Every single little thing - as far ahead as he was, he shouldn't have missed a thing in class. Merlin. It was so fucking embarrassing. He couldn't recall basics, he couldn't recall the stupid simplest little charms. And to top it off, Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by the stupidest damn idiot to ever walk the earth.

Harry groaned inwardly as he saw the huge pile of homework that awaited him. It was so stupid - he should be able to do this in his sleep, but he wasn't. 10 inches on the uses of monkswood? Tom would have just helped him out so -

 _Fucking Tom_.

If he hadn't gone down there that night - or if stupid Potter hadn't told them - or if Tom hadn't decided he needed to go protect Harry - or if Dumbledore hadn't... there were so many ifs. Harry knew it wasn't fair. If anyone was to blame for what happened that night, it was him, but he couldn't help but feel angry - sheer, heart clenching anger - at Tom.

If Tom really was still alive, why hadn't he come back?

"Harry. Harry! Come on, I know you're in there," Tracey whined slightly, as she banged on his door. "Harr-"

Harry opened the door and nearly got punched in the face for his trouble. "What?" he said, the annoyance seeping into his voice.

"Afternoon to you too, jackass," Tracey said without missing a beat. "Come on. I'm going to the library to study and I need a big, strong man to protect me."

"To beat up, you mean," Harry retorted, smiling a little despite himself as he grabbed his bag.

"Oh come on," Tracey replied, leaning against the door as she examined her nails. "That was only once, and it was a Gryffindor. Everyone knows they don't count."

"Don't let Hermione hear you say that," Harry warned, cheering up a bit with the distraction. "She'd probably take you up on the offer."

" _Ew_." Tracey mimed throwing up as they walked down the hallways to the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms. "Don't even remind me of that. _Ever_. The stupid red head's been making eyes at her ever since we got back."

"He has?" Harry said in surprise. "Oh, I thought he'd get over the crush over the summer."

"Not a chance. He's even stopped some of the Gryffindors from pranking her. Quite the knight in shining armor. I don't know, maybe it's something about being saved from a troll that just lights a fire under the heart."

Harry blinked as they came out of the dungeons. Luckily the staircases were still aligned, and they started to walk up to the library. "I heard he saved her, actually," Harry said thoughtfully. "Flew in on a broomstick and everything after the evil Slytherins dragged her down to steal the stone."

"Ooo, how dashing," Tracey said mockingly. " _I_ heard Potter smashed the troll's head in with the club. Really makes a girl dream, you know?"

"I thought Lockheart did that already - hey, _ow_ ," Harry protested as Tracey whacked him repeatedly in the arm.

"You weren't even paying attention in class! I saw you _drooling_!" Tracey said in faux outrage. "How did you even -"

"Oh please, even I heard Lavender Brown," Harry said, rolling his eyes just as they reached the library door. "You think they're still stuck with the pixies?"

"Don't know, don't care, not my problem," Tracey said with a smirk. "At least we got the afternoon free. Hey, isn't that Fia? I didn't know we had a red head first year."

"Fi - oh, yeah," Harry said in surprise as he saw the dark haired girl go past a bookcase. "How'd you recognize her?"

"Oh, you just talk about her so much," Tracey said, shrugging. "I feel like she's family at this point. Here, come on." She put her bags down on one of the tables. Outside, the rain was pouring down in buckets, creating a dull drum on the windows. "Is Draco still trying out for the team in this weather? I think they cancelled the first years' lesson."

Harry shrugged. "Don't know. Probably. He seemed excited." He opened his schoolbag and frowned again in annoyance at the pile of homework he had. He really needed to do some extra studying tonight, since he'd gotten sloppy over the summer.

"You know," Tracey said, as she abruptly broke the moment of silence, "you should come join our study group. Draco, Hermione and I have a really good system set up - oh, and some of the other first years, it's kind of informal - and we create some study guides for all the classes together. You'd be so helpful, we really need someone to take over the Defense class."

"Study group?" Harry asked in surprise, as he sat down at the table. "What study group? I didn't know you guys had one," he added, a little defensively.

"Hey, hey, don't look at me," Tracey protested. "You always studied by yourself last year. Anyways, if you want in, we're meeting after dinner in the common room to divy up study guides." Seeing he was about to protest at the time, she cut him off. "And don't give me that look. Hermione finds time to do her own thing afterwards, so you'll have plenty of time doing whatever you do in your room. You two are crazy, anyways. I'd much rather be catching up on _Teen Witch Weekly_ -"

Harry snorted, making Tracey giggle. "Okay, well doing whatever I do in my room," she said with a smirk. "Come on. Let's get this Potions essay out of the way."

* * *

"Lucius," Sirius said crisply, not looking up from the papers on the ritual as Narcissa's husband burst into his office. "What can I do for you? I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Call Bellatrix. _Now_ ," his cousin-in-law ordered curtly. Sirius looked up, putting down his papers at the tone. He hid his surprise at the wizard's appearance. His robes were wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in days.

Sirius paused for a moment, and then twisted the ring on his hand, tugging slightly at Bellatrix to give her a sense of what was happening. Bellatrix responded back briefly after a second.

"She'll be here in a moment," Sirius replied, clearing a bit off his desk. "Now what is this about? And sit down, for Merlin's sake."

Lucius ignored him, continuing to pace. "The raid. That stupid, idiotic red head -"

"Weasley, I presume," Bellatrix said dryly, slipping into the room. "What is it Lucius? I can hear you pacing two floors down."

"The raid!" Lucius growled. "I've searched high and low for it - there's no one else that could have taken it -"

"Taken _what_?" Bellatrix said, settling into one of the chairs and helping herself to some tea. "Lucius, slow down, you're not making -"

"The Dark Lord's..." Lucius seemed to have trouble finding the words. "His diary," he spit out at last.

Sirius' eyes flew to Bellatrix. "His diary?"

"Yes, his diary," Lucius replied angrily, misreading his tone. "That's not the point. Obviously it's much more important -"

"Why didn't you say he'd left it to you?" Bellatrix demanded, interrupting him as she flew to her feet. "An object of that much power -"

"He ordered me not to tell a soul," Lucius said in exasperation. "Don't tell me you don't have one."

Sirius eyed Bellatrix, who didn't respond to the implication.

"I'm not the one who lost it," Bellatrix sniped back. "How could you?"

"That idiot Weasley must have stolen it," Lucius growled. "He's not -"

"Well, did you check their house? An object of that sort, you'd be able to sense it if you really knew what to look for -"

"Of course I checked. I flew by as soon as I realized. It's not there."

He looked the papers on the desk out of the corner of his eye. If that diary really was what Bellatrix thought... that would make three so far. His blood ran cold at the implications. Four, maybe, if Harry counted. Did he? There'd been no deaths... or had there? "Lucius," Sirius said calmly, interrupting the brewing firestorm. "I'm vaguely aware as to the nature of this object, but can you enlighten us as to the, ah, mood of the magic in it, so to speak?"

"I don't know!" Lucius cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I wasn't stupid enough to write in it -"

"So it'll only be activated if someone writes in it?" Bellatrix interrupted. "Interesting -"

"It's quite unnoticeable," Lucius said grumpily. "You wouldn't notice what it was unless you looked for it. Quite a subtle piece of art. I doubt Weasley even realized what he was taking - it's not at the Ministry, either," he added. "I already checked. They've given everything else back. Which means he took it - _stole_ it, more likely, and I can't do a damn thing."

"If it's not at his house or at the Ministry," Sirius cut in before Bellatrix could respond, "someone else must have taken it out. We know he hasn't given it to Dumbledore - you'd be hauled away the second our dear headmaster knew anything about that type of magic."

"That doesn't solve the problem! How in seven hells am I supposed to get into Hogwarts?" Lucius demanded. "The castle's layered with so much magic that I'd have to inspect every room personally even to get a hint of where that diary _might_ be. And then Severus would stick his nose into it -"

"No, no, you can't tell Severus," Bellatrix said, her eyes glinting as she considered the options. "The less who know, the better. For them as well. Have you told Narcissa?"

"And drag her into this? Absolutely not," Lucius said with a frown. "She's never wanted to get involved."

Bellatrix looked at both the two wizards. "Well," she said slowly, "neither of you will like this, but the only option is to let the cards fall where they may. If someone is actually stupid enough to unlock it, they'll soon reveal themselves."

Lucius seemed about to disagree, but then he reconsidered. "It won't be a Slytherin, at least," he said. "Or if it is -"

"You can't say anything specific to Draco," Sirius cut in. "And I won't, to Fia or Harry," he added, when Bellatrix looked at him. "Just warn them to keep an eye out for anything strange. That's not such an odd request. And besides, Dumbledore does nothing but skim the mind. All three of them know enough to protect themselves from that."

"So we rely on Dumbledore's incompetence?"

"Until we have better information? Yes," Sirius replied, ignoring Lucius' anger. "We can't take them out," he pointed out. "They're required -"

"They're hostages," Lucius said bluntly. "I bribed every single Ministry officer available, and we still weren't allowed to send Draco to Durmstrang. _Allowed_. In what world are you not allowed to choose where your child goes to school?"

"Of course. But we're not going to do a thing to harm them - or at least, that's what the Light thinks. We're not doing anything." Sirius looked to Bellatrix. "Not until we are ready to play every card we have."

* * *

Fall passed in a near blur; soon enough, it was November once again. Harry groaned as he lifted his head from the desk. They were allowed to study in the library after dinner now that they were first years, but he'd been falling asleep more and more. He'd even missed Samhain.

The clock chimed ten times. _Damnit_. It was a Saturday... still. He'd be in trouble for this for sure if he got caught.

His muscles screamed a little as he stood up, stretching. He'd been studying in one of the back corners of the library. Wasn't someone supposed to _check_ the library before they closed it? It didn't really matter, he could sneak back, but at the same time he didn't want to get in trouble.

With a yawn, he put the books back into their places. They didn't really have what he was looking for, anyways. Thankfully he hadn't brought his bag with him. With a quick flick of his wand - he was getting back to wandless, but only for the most simple of spells - his body disappeared from sight.

With a quick glance around the corner, he slunk out of the library. A few of the seventh years were still about. Most teachers turned a blind eye since everyone understood the stress of N.E.W.T.S.

For some reason, the castle seemed darker that night. It had been particularly cold that day - strange, since Harry'd seen spiders crawling out the window earlier. Maybe it was the moon. Or maybe it was just the November weather in Scotland.

He would have missed it if he hadn't looked to the side at precisely the right moment. The water caught the light of the moon precisely at the right angle. It transfixed him for a moment, the beautiful white glow...

And then the red splashed across it. Red? No, that wasn't right - it wasn't a Blood Moon, it wouldn't be until December...

The eyes were green, like his own, but lifeless. But no, that wasn't right... there was still consciousness there... a whisper, a wisp, a fog in the mind.

Harry backed away slowly as he took in the full sight of the scene before him. The water - where had the water come from? - had spilled into the second floor hallway. The moon was stretched vulgarly across the water, small ripples splashing through it. He'd caused those. But then there was the cat - the cat, hung by its tail, frozen in time... the words, written in a blood red - or just blood? -

 _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened... Enemies of the Heir... Beware_.

He didn't have to hear the voice to know to run.


	8. Might his Quietus make

"Might his Quietus make"

Harry woke up the next morning to an uncomfortable pit in his stomach that wouldn't go away. Sundays were always a bit long; without classes, breakfast was served until the afternoon. Slytherin had won the Quidditch match the day before, so most of the house had stayed up celebrating that night. When he'd gotten in, breathless, there were still students by the fire. Not one had spared a glance for him.

The common room that morning, however, was deserted. Balloons and streamers were strewn all over the floor, remnants of a late night feast still evident on the tables. Harry grimaced. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him.

The clock struck eleven. More people should have been up, but when he got to the Great Hall, most students seemed to be in bed or up and about already. A few of the first years were still over at the table, and Hermione waved him over.

"Oh, hi Harry," Draco said, the conversation coming to an awkward pause as Harry sat down. "Want some juice...?"

"Thanks," Harry replied absentmindedly, fiddling around with his fork when no one else spoke up. "...How was everyone's -"

"Did you hear about the cat?" Blaise interrupted bluntly.

"Cat? You mean Hermione's new cat?" Harry replied, trying his best to sound puzzled. "You named him Crookshanks, didn't you? He looked cute -"

"Oh, no, Blaise is talking about Flich's cat," Hermione replied, her brow furrowed in worry. "It's not good... they found him this morning, petrified in one of the upstairs hallways, with - "

"With the words, "The chamber of secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir, beware" written in blood on the wall above," Blaise recited quickly.

"I doubt it was written in blood," Tracey said dryly. "Probably paint. They don't know who did it, anyhow."

"Well, how do you know?" Blaise turned to her, resting his chin on his hand. "And of course they know who did it," he added, after a moment's pause. "It's the heir of Slytherin."

"The Chamber is a myth," said Tracey bluntly. "And besides, there's probably tons of heirs. We literally just went over this. Anyways, are you lot going to the dueling club this afternoon?"

Blaise was the only one to look put out at the change in the conversation, but the chatter turned quickly to Lockheart and the stupidity that was sure to ensure. Harry tuned them out, focusing on the food in front of him. They didn't know who'd done it yet... but the pit in his stomach didn't disappear. That didn't mean a thing.

A voice telling him to run.

Why did he need to run if he was innocent?

* * *

Classes came too soon for comfort. Transfiguration was first that Monday - and as usual, with the Gryffindors.

"Hey Harry." Hermione swung her bag down onto the table next to him in the back. "Did you get something to eat? I didn't see you at breakfast."

"Oh. Yes," Harry replied, eyeing his homework critically. He'd already caught one stupid mistake. "Sorry. Had to finish this before class." Tracey plopped down next to him as the Slytherins filed in together. The Gryffindors could be heard down the hall. "Hi Tracey," said Harry absentmindedly. Finally he pushed the homework away - it wasn't going to get better in the five minutes before class. "How was the Dueling Club?" He leaned back in his chair, trying to relax.

"I have absolutely no idea," Tracey yawned, her eyes still closed. "Apparently Dumbledore shut it down pretty quickly after Potter got attacked by a snake. The idiot started blubbering and ran away."

"He got attacked by a _snake_?" Harry echoed, a little shocked. "Weren't you there?"

"Of course not," Tracey said with a grimace. "Had to finish the Potions essay. Draco told me -"

"I told you what?" Draco broke in, looking up from his conversation with Hermione. Per usual, they had been debating some archaic tangent that had absolutely nothing to do with the work they were currently studying.

"About the Dueling Club. You tell Harry about it." She yawned and put her head down on the table.

"Oh, right," Draco replied absentmindedly. "You didn't miss much. Waste of time. I've seen ants that are more interesting. Besides, everyone was too busy talking about -"

The door at the front of the classroom opened suddenly. "Homework out," Professor McGonagall said crisply. With a wave of her wand, the parchment collected itself and quickly piled up neatly on her desk. With a groan, Tracey opened her eyes. McGonagall eyed the homework critically on her desk - even from far away, Harry had to admit it looked a little... well, skimpy. "Wands out," she ordered. But even the students normally quick to jump at McGonagall's voice were slow that morning. The slow drum of whispering continued. "Well then," she said, after a moment's pause. "Who would like to discuss the essay?" But no one raised their hands, except - finally - a Gryffindor. Brown, Harry remembered. Lavender? Maybe.

"Yes, Miss Brown?" McGonagall said sharply. She was usually nicer to her Gryffindors.

"I - um, Professor McGonagall," Lavender Brown began, slinking a little into her seat at the witch's gaze, "I - well, we were wondering if you could tell us more about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Ah," McGonagall replied at last, considering the students before her. Slowly, the whispering came to a halt, the students turning to the professor expectantly. "Very well. Well, you all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago, by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Now three of the founders co-existed quite harmoniously. One did not."*

Potter turned to Weasley and whispered something to him with a smirk. McGonagall eyed them sharply, but didn't say anything. "Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed magical learning should be kept within all magic families. In other words, pure bloods. Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school. Now according to legend, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in this castle, known as the Chamber of Secrets. Though shortly before departing, he sealed it until that time when his own true heir returned to the school. The heir alone would be able to open the chamber and unleash the horror within, and by so doing, purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin's view, were unworthy to study magic."

"Muggle borns?" Hermione piped up for once.

"Miss Granger, please don't interrupt. But yes, muggle borns. Naturally, the school has been searched many times. And no such chamber has ever been found. Now if that is all -"

"But Professor," Weasley interrupted, "what could have attacked Filch's cat?"

"Well, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, turning over the words in her mouth, "legend has it that the chamber is home to something that only the Heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be home to a... monster. But it is just that," she added firmly. " A _legend_. No monster has ever been seen at Hogwarts. Mrs. Norris is being treated by Madame Pomfrey, who will no doubt soon discover the nature of the ailment that has befallen her. Now if that is all, _please_ open your books to page one hundred and fifty seven." Her tone made it clear that it was not a request. The rumbling returned, but the students opened their books.

Harry found it difficult to concentrate with the new information, but paid enough attention to be able to do the essay that night. He was almost caught up with the work - but there was always something new...

Soon enough, the bell rang. "Ugh," Tracey groaned, still clearly very sleepy. "Thank Merlin for free periods -"

"Come on, Tracey," Hermione interrupted. "Let's just go to the library and get the homework out of the way now."

"Yay, more homework," Tracey muttered under her breath as she gathered up her bag.

Harry smirked at the whispered comment, standing up next to her. "Come on," he said teasingly. "You can sleep in the library."

"As if," Tracey yawned, following Draco and Hermione out of the classroom. They were some of the last few left - the Gryffindors had fled the first second they could.

"So we're looking up the Chamber of Secrets as soon as we get to the library, right?" Draco drawled, as they caught up to him at the classroom door. Draco swung his schoolbag over his shoulder. A short stab of envy hit Harry unexpectedly - Draco had grown taller over the summer, almost as tall as Hermione, while Harry just... well, hadn't.

"Oh, it's not that hard." Hermione charged toward the library as soon as they got into the hallway, while the three others struggled a bit to match her pace. "Obviously the monster is a snake," she added curtly, still smarting from McGonagall's cold dismissal in class. "Slytherin was obsessed with them. They're all over the dormitories. What else would he use as his pet? And besides, everyone thinks snakes are monsters. They don't want to understand them. They don't bother to look at them, they just scream and run away -"

"So you think the chamber is real?" Tracey cut in quickly, before Hermione started to identify too much with snakes. Draco and Harry glanced at her as they headed down the hallway. "I mean, someone could have just painted those words as a prank. It's not that hard to take some paint -"

"Blood," Draco interjected.

"That hasn't been established yet. Okay, yes, even assuming blood - that's not _that_ hard to get if you talk to the right people. And this person sounds messed up enough to know those people. Or just cut yourself, honestly."

"Oh, of course it's possible," Hermione said, now a bit distracted. "Ever since the student population declined, a lot of Hogwarts has gone untouched. I don't even think anyone has a full plan from when the castle was built."

"Now there's an idea," mused Draco. "I don't suppose those plans still exist?"

"Not after the fire in 1312," Hermione replied.

"Oh, you're right, that did gut the library," Draco replied. "The only copy - well, one of the only copies of Morgana's textbooks were destroyed too. I doubt the castle plans survived."

"And it's been built up over the years," interjected Harry, but the two were lost in their own world now.

"Now, it'd be easier to narrow down the location if we knew the exact type of monster - snake, sorry," Draco added at the look on Hermione's face.

"Oh, that's easy," Hermione said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Basilisk."

"A basilisk?" Tracey asked. "I heard about those growing up, but -"

"King of the snakes," recited Hermione. "And it'll petrify anything that sees it's reflection... what?" she asked at the look on their faces.

"I didn't even remember that, and I grew up in a wizarding household," Draco said in confusion. "No offense, but how did you even know about them?"

"Oh." Hermione shrugged. "I was doing some light reading over the summer. Since I finished with the homework early, I figured I'd read through some of the textbooks for the electives to get a feel for what to pick in the spring -"

"What?" Draco sputtered. "What do you mean you were reading ahead? We don't choose those until the spring - and we don't even _have_ to take Care of Magical Creatures, you just pick three of the courses -"

"Oh please, Draco," Tracey scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You're just jealous you didn't do the same. So what else did the book say about basilisks?" She asked, looking back to Hermione as they paused in the doorway of the library.

"Um..." Hermione's face furrowed as she tried to remember the book.

"Here," Harry interrupted, leading them towards one of the corners in the back of the library. "Let's put our bags down." He pushed past Draco.

"Not much," admitted Hermione at last, whispering loudly as they settled down at the table. "I just remember it since it sounded like Medusa -"

"Oh, that's true," interjected Draco. "Father said some scholars thought Medusa used basilisk hatchlings as a crown. Though they're hard to create, aren't they?"

"Was that a _bedtime_ story?" Tracey wondered aloud to Harry, but their friends were ignoring them again.

"They are?" Hermione asked Draco.

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "I just remember something about that. Why don't we just find a book on them?"

But after over an hour of searching, the quartet hadn't achieved that much. Hermione had quickly found the textbook for the third years' Magical Creatures class, but even that hadn't offered up much useful information. "If I have to read one more sentence about how the Basilisk is a monster..." Hermione groused, slamming yet another book closed.

"To be fair," Tracey said gently, from where she'd curled up in an armchair, "they do seem to be awfully good at killing."

"Are we sure it's a basilisk?" remarked Draco. "Ok... well yes, that's a silly question," he admitted, at the look on Hermione's face. "I can't find mention of any other creature that can petrify students. So it's either that, or..."

Tracey looked up at Draco curiously. "Or there's someone practicing Dark Magic at Hogwarts," she said in a low voice.

"Yes," Draco admitted uneasily. "Or someone's practicing Dark Magic at Hogwarts."

* * *

But the rest of November passed with no further attacks, and then December arrived. Soon enough Harry was on the train home. With his mother gone, Harry had thought of not going ho- to 12 Grimmuald Place, but to his surprise, it wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought it'd be.

"Harry," Rhia cried warmly, as soon as he entered the doorway, giving him a big hug. "Welcome home. Oh - you've grown." She pulled back for a second to study him with a smile and patted his cheek. "We'll have to take you by for more robes soon."

"Hi," he said nervously.. "Hullo, Lady Black," he added. "Sorry. Aunt Walburga," Harry amended, at the look on her face.

"Hello, Harry," Walburga Black said with a smile. "Rhia was just telling me about the plans for the holidays. Why don't you run upstairs and unpack? I'm sure you'll want a shower after all that traveling."

"And fetch Fia while you're upstairs, she ran up as soon as she came in." Rhia added, as she turned back to the portrait of her mother-in-law to discuss the plans for the family dinner.

Walburga was right - a hot shower was a good fix after the train ride down. Running the towel over his hair, he took a look at himself in the mirror. Thank Merlin they'd gotten his eyes fixed. The glasses the Dursleys had squeezed him into had hurt like hell. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he tried to see what Rhia had meant. He hadn't grown any, not that he could tell. His body was still so scrawny... he'd tried to eat more, he really had, but it hadn't done any good. And short. He was so short.

Harry frowned as he turned away from the mirror. He really didn't want to look at himself anymore. Dressing quickly, he folded the towel back onto the rack, avoiding the mirror.

The clock struck three - was it that late already? The house seemed deserted as he went back out into the hallways. Sirius was probably still up in his office. Rhia's voice floated up the stairway; she and Walburga were discussing the Yule party. _Fia_ , Harry remembered. Rhia had asked him to get Fia... who wasn't in her room.

Fia lived across from him, but he hadn't heard her come out. She hadn't been down in the kitchen, either.

 _Library it is,_ Harry thought to himself with a shrug. Fia would turn up eventually.

* * *

Hermione paused as she got on the train. The hallways were nearly deserted, the windows frosty from the cold London air. But the buzz of students talking could still be heard from under the doorways of the cars.

She gulped down the tiny bit of nervousness as she fluttered on the edge of the hallways. Her friends wouldn't be too hard to find. She just had to -

"Move, would you," came a loud, irritated voice behind her. "Come on Jessica. The cars are going to be taken." The two girls - a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, Hermione noticed - pushed past her. With some trepidation, Hermione followed them into the train. "- but she hasn't been the same since October," one of the girls said to the other. Hermione tried her best not to listen as she peeked into the cars, but they were all taken. "Though I don't know what could have happened. All her time is taken up in those idiotic remedial lessons Lockheart keeps assigning. I never thought she was that bad at Defense..."

"Ugh," the other girl replied. "I _wish_ I was bad enough to be in those. Penny's an idiot for complaining - and she claims she's not doing anything interesting enough to remember. If I were in there, I know what _I'd_ be doing - why is that little Slytherin following us?" she whispered to her friend, eyeing Hermione over her shoulder. Hermione tried to sink into the floor at that, but there really wasn't anywhere to go but forward. "She's -

"Granger!" cried the voice out of a car. Hermione didn't recognize it, but _dear sweet Merlin_ it was the best thing she'd heard all day. With a beam, she turned to face... who was she facing? It was some idiot from Hufflepuff she sat next to in Herbology. Jeff. John. Jared? "Oh, hi Jessica," whatever his name was added. "Do you want to sit with us Granger?"

Hermione smiled stiffly, trapped a little bit between the two older witches and the Hufflepuffs she didn't know. "Thanks," she said slowly. It wasn't that long of a train ride... was it?

"Hi, Justin," the older girl said with a sniff, as they left them.

"Come on in!" Justin said with a grin, holding the door open. With some caution, Hermione followed him in. To her surprise, it wasn't just Hufflepuffs - well, Susan Bones was there, but so were the twins from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, as well as Neville.

"Justin, isn't she a Slytherin?" The girl who spoke up was in Ravenclaw robes, but Hermione didn't know her. She felt unusually exposed standing there in her home clothes - she'd wanted to change beforehand, but it made Mum and Dad so uncomfortable...

"Oh, she's one of us," Justin said with a grin. "Here, take a seat," he added generously over his shoulder, motioning to the one space not really taken. Hermione tried to smile as she squeezed herself into the corner.

"Hermione's nice," piped up Neville from the corner. "We worked on a project in Transfiguration last year together."

"Humph," the girl replied. "So anyways, Justin, you were saying...?"

"Oh, it's a Ravenclaw for sure," Justin said with a laugh. "They're the only ones smart enough to get away with a prank like that."

"No way," a Hufflepuff cut in. "I heard it was the Weasley twins. Besides, everyone knows the Slytherin family died out centuries ago -"

"Not according to Brattlebort," one of the girls said with a snort. "He's been telling everyone he's the heir -"

"So he can slither into their chamber? Yeah, that was old two months ago," quipped a Ravenclaw. "You don't think it's a Slytherin, do you?" he asked Justin.

"Oh, none of them are _that_ evil," Justin said, laughing. "Hermione, what do you think?"

Hermione gulped as the eyes turned towards her. "I - um -"

"You'd tell us if it was a Slytherin who pulled that stunt, wouldn't you?" Justin smiled, but Hermione couldn't quite tell if it was a joke. "You're one of the good ones."

"That's the only reason she's in here," one of the girls muttered under her breath to the Hufflepuff sitting next to her. She clearly wasn't meant to hear the remark.

Hermione felt the anger bubbling inside her. _Remember what Draco said. You can't lose your temper_. What would they expect her to do? One of the good ones, Justin had told her. One of the... idiots.

"Oh, I have no idea," she said with a smile, trying to laugh. "I haven't heard anything -"

"No, they wouldn't tell you, of course," Justin cut in, a little disappointed. "Well. It must be tough being a muggleborn in Slytherin - I'm sure they're pretty rough with you. Those Slytherin families can be like that."

She bristled at the assumptions about her friends, but kept her voice under control. Draco would be proud, Hermione mused. He'd been trying to get her to be more subtle since last year. "It's nothing I can't handle."

"Of course," Justin replied with a chuckle. Oh, how she wanted to wipe that condescending little smirk off his face. She didn't put it past him just to have conveniently invited her into the car to ask about the Heir... how stupid did he think she was? Though she wasn't the idiot who thought it was only a prank.

They ignored her for the rest of the train ride. It was glorious.

* * *

"Harry!" Tracey looked up and grinned when the group entered the dorms. "Oh, hi Draco and Hermione," she added. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the expression on Draco's face.

"Here, let me put my bag in my room," Harry said with a grin. "Dinner after?"

"Sure. Hermione?"

"Going to go unpack," the older witch said shortly, pushing past Harry and Draco.

"Is she ok?" Tracey said, a flash of worry crossing her face.

"She didn't sit with us on the train," Draco replied, shrugging. "Not sure what's up. Here, I'll go check on her."

Harry paused, a little lost as his friends left the common room, but he didn't follow. Hermione hated being crowded... but Tracey knew how to take care of it. Carrying his bag, he left for his room.

His Hogwarts bedroom was a little chilly after the winter break. With a shiver, Harry tried to light the fire wandlessly, but it didn't quite work. Harry sighed as he picked up his wand. He'd focused too much on Occumulacy over the holidays...

The fire roared to life, bringing a nice warmth to the room. He tossed the bag on the bed - or, actually, he could use the mirror now. He had a few minutes until dinner. Rifling through the bag, he tossed a few of the pieces of clothing to the side - he could get those later. The mirror was... there it was. Buried at the bottom, of course.

"Mother," he whispered quietly. Sometimes she didn't answer - she was busy, he knew that, but it still stung a little. Last time they'd spoken she'd been in a small village. Harry wasn't allowed to ask where, but it didn't matter. It looked like something out of a muggle Christmas card, the kind the Dursleys used to hang up.

He was about to turn away when the mirror flickered to life. "Harry," Lily Steward said warmly. "Are you back at Hogwarts already?" Her voice was a perfect melody that he couldn't quite remember, but always drew him in.

"Hi," he replied, kicking himself a little at the stupid response. "Yeah, I, um, just got back this afternoon. How is - how are you?"

"I'm doing fine." His mother smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She'd grown a bit haggard in the few months since September. There were lines there that hadn't been there before. His mother... his mother looked old. "It's promising out here."

"Is it snowing?"

"Yes, it's snowing. We had a few feet. How has school been?" she asked, switching the subject abruptly. "How are classes?"

"Fine," answered Harry. He swallowed the lie down easily. Not that she'd know, being off in the middle of Merlin knows where. A surge of anger rose in him suddenly. "I have to go," he said quickly. "We're going to dinner."

"Of course." Lily was calm, but she seemed to bite down the rest of her words. "Thanks for calling. I love -"

"Bye, mum," he answered, accidentally cutting her off. The mirror flashed, the image disappearing.

Guilt rose in him, but he smashed it back down. It wasn't _his_ fault she'd gone and left. And if she hadn't left him as a baby, he wouldn't - _you know that wasn't her fault_ , a voice in his head reminded him.

Did he? No one ever told him anything. _Not that you asked_ , his mind said traitorously. _Sirius would, if you asked him._ No. It wasn't his fault they kept secrets.

With a growl, he threw the mirror back onto the bed. Dinner first. Then he'd call his mother back later. He stalked out of his room and back down the hallway. Some of the first years had gathered in the common room to go to the Great Hall, and he joined them without another word. "Hey, Harry," Blaise said with a nod, but went back to talking to Daphne.

His black mood lasted through dinner and into dessert. It was always strange, the first night back - excitement and stress rolled into one. Some of the sixth and seventh years were muttering; the professors had apparently scheduled tests for the next week, under the impression they'd studied over the holidays.

The chatter had largely died down by the end of dinner, the sleepiness settling in. Most of the students had gone home for the holidays and come back on the train. It'd be an early wake up for most. Harry had tried to keep to the Hogwarts schedule at home, but he'd missed a few here and there. Since the rest of the second years had left him alone after one too many biting replies, he was left free to think. And worry. And plan. Training. He had to get back into training tomorrow -

 _Run_ , the voice said. _Run._

Harry nearly jumped in his seat. It was the same voice as last time... a sudden cold ran through his body. _Run_. But when he looked up with a startled glance, no one had seemed to notice a thing. Run - but from what? Everyone was still chattering away; above, the clouds were drifting across the sky. Nothing was wrong, except... well, except the chill running down his spine, and the voice still in his head.

 _Run._

Run? Run from what? But dinner went on, the minutes ticking by as the hair stood up on his spine.

"What's Filch doing?" The whisper went down the table, echoing along as students fell silent. Harry glanced over - the cantankerous old care taker was limping down the Great Hall. Slowly - very, very slowly - he walked up to the teachers' dais, making his way over to Dumbledore's seat. The entire hall strained towards them, trying to hear what the caretaker had interrupted dinner for.

The realization of what had happened ran down Harry's spine. He had to get out of here... to hide. He rose abruptly, the students now invisible to him. That is, until an angry jerk on his sleeve pulled him back into reality.

"I don't know what you think is going on, Harry, but sit down," Tracey whispered angrily in his ear. "No one else knows what's happening. Act normal, will you?" Startled, Harry glanced around. No one seemed to have noticed his strange behavior. " _Sit down_ ," Tracey repeated. Harry obeyed.

After a moment, the headmaster rose. "Prefects, please escort your houses back to their dormitories," he growled.

With growing murmurs, the students rose to leave.


	9. With a bare Bodkin

"With a bare Bodkin"

"Mr. Steward, please stay after class," Professor Snape instructed coolly as the students slowly filed out of the classroom. Harry sat back down nervously as his friends passed by him, Draco squeezing his shoulder.

"We'll be waiting outside," Tracey muttered.

"No, don't," Harry replied quickly. "Just go to the common room."

Finally, the door shut, leaving the Potions classroom as silent as it always seemed to be. "Harry..." Snape began, then paused. "What do you know of the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked abruptly. His unease was palatable.

"Only what Professor McGonnagall has told us," answered the second year. "That Salazar Slytherin created it and hid a beast inside the chamber."

"And you and your friends have not searched for more?" the professor probed, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps with Polyjuice?"

"He - we think... the beast is a basilisk," Harry confessed, uncertain about the Polyjuice. "I wasn't trying to lie," added Harry quickly. "It's just been so long, I forgot we had looked. Polyjuice, sir?"

"Yes, I'm sure you have other things on your mind..." Snape ignored his vague question.

"Sir?" Harry asked, meeting Snape's gaze evenly. "Is it a basilisk?"

"Yes," the professor said, his voice frank. "It is." He didn't elaborate how he knew that, Harry noticed. Did the other professors know? Snape was close friends with the Blacks... and he had heard the whispers. The professor watched him, his dark eyes betraying nothing. "Following the attack of Miss Clearwater on the second floor this week, I would advise that you stay in the common room," Snape added, changing the subject. "Do you understand why?"

"Yes, for safety," Harry repeated unthinkingly.

Snape pursed his lips. "And should you fall under suspicion, it will not go well."

"Professor?" Harry began, trying to find the right words. Snape waited, his dark gaze never leaving him. "Who is...?"

"It is not clear."

"But only the Heir can control it?" _But who would be the Heir?_

"Perhaps." Snape shrugged, his every move like a snake. "Of course, that would imply the basilisk is under control right now."

"Professor...?"

"Go the common room, Harry. And don't wander." Snape dismissed him with a wave of his hand, turning away to begin grading papers.

* * *

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "Harry, wake up."

 _It was cold, so cold... but a clear chill, the kind that drew him up and out, through the darkness and into the warmth of the stone... the drums surrounding him a distant call. The beat grew louder as he grew nearer, calling him closer and closer into the warmth... he was so_ _close_ _\- almost reaching - if he could just climb higher he would run - two beats, two beats of a drum - they were close, so very close..._

" _Harry!_ " She hit him in the arm, hard, and Harry woke with a start.

He wasn't in the dark anymore, he was in class. No - but it had been so real - he could still feel the stone underneath him...

A dream. It must have been a dream.

"Come on," Hermione whispered. "Lockheart's going to dismiss us in a minute -"

"Did I sleep through class?" Harry whispered frantically. The cold swept over him, a jolt through his body.

"No, not again," Hermione replied, looking at him critically. "Lockheart's just letting us go early. Come on." All around them students were packing up, Harry noticed. Slowly, he grabbed his bag. What had he said in his dream? Run...

"Was it just me, or did Lockheart look a little pale today?" Tracey and Draco walked over from their desks. "Not that I'm complaining about getting out early. _Anything_ beats this stupid class."

"Why wouldn't he be?" Draco drawled, half sitting on Hermione's desk as they let the other first years get their things. "If he gets petrified, he won't be able to pamper himself every day."

Harry ignored the talk as he got up. He needed to remember this dream. Something had been important, but what? If he had only had a few more minutes... the trio fell in behind him, their voices a quiet murmur. Rubbing his head, Harry tried to remember, but the noises were too much -

"- right, he's been falling asleep everywhere -"

Harry rounded on them, startling the two witches. "Would you stop discussing me?" he said heatedly. "I don't need you to mother me."

"We weren't trying to _mother_ you," Tracey replied with a roll of her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. We're just a little worried -

"Whatever." Harry cut her off immediately. "I'm just a little tired. So what? We're not all geniuses like you are -"

"Not all of us are geniuses," Tracey replied dryly. "And last I checked -"

"Hey," Hermione said angrily. "I'm not a genius. I work my butt off, same as you. And -"

"Guys, calm down," Draco said coolly. "Everyone's staring."

The four of them stared at each other, unsure of what to say.

"I need to go grab something," Harry said finally. "I - just - "

"We'll see you in the common room," Draco replied.

"What about -"

"Don't worry about me," Harry said stiffly, turning away from his friends. The drums had died down as the students dispersed... _running like mice... what would their eyes look like, those beautiful beautiful eyes..._ The cold washed over him again as he blinked; it had been a blinding heat, burning across his skin.

Harry stood still for a moment, but then ducked into a curtained alcove. The darkness hugged him, a blessed relief. He was in a hallway somewhere, the voices dying down in the distance. It was the last class of the day... they'd all be going back to their dormitories soon. _Who would be next_ was the unspoken whisper that ran through the pack.

He was about to get out of the alcove when the voices suddenly came back his way. Two very distinctive, very annoying - Potter, Harry realized suddenly. Potter and Weasley. Cursing under his breath, Harry poked his head out. They'd pass by soon, if he was hearing them right. He groaned. Couldn't he get a break? Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Another. The pain in his head wouldn't dull. No, it would drive him insane before he could leave. He wanted to cry out suddenly, but he couldn't - they'd hear and then shut up about their stupid little Polyjuice tonight, and he didn't want to deal with -

The pain stabbed him through the eye, and with a cry, Harry pushed himself out of the alcove. Better. Better with air. The darkness called to him again, and - no. _Control, Harry_. These weren't dreams anymore, they were...

Something was trying to pull him into its mind.

Harry blinked. Suddenly, the world seemed clearer: the sun's brightness a comfort, not a curse. Something was happening - but where? Down, that was where it was. Left or right...

"Someone's back there." Charles Potter's voice cracked like a whip through the corrider, the pompous idiot.

Harry pulled himself off the wall, rolling his eyes. Left it was, then. He lost them easily as he moved swiftly through the deserted hallways. What the two idiots were doing wandering through the castle in a crisis - what Dumbledore was doing letting his prize wander through the castle in a crisis, actually - was left to ponder later. Why hadn't they been sent home yet?

He slowed his steps as he arrived at the door. A bathroom, he realized. Witches, the sign said, but he ignored it as he pushed past.

The stink hit him almost immediately. The floor was covered with water, almost entirely flooded. Gulping a sudden slice of terror down, Harry went into the room... _good job, idiot_ , the voice in his head said snidely. _You follow some idiotic magic echoing through the castle that you have absolutely no experience with and no knowledge of what the hell it might be while there's some killer snake loose. Good job -_ and he step sided it just in time. A book, lying on the ground, the pages dripping - no, not dripping. Dry.

Harry glanced around the room as he picked it up gingerly. Nothing was there, nothing out of place except for the water. Just the book.

Black leather. Nothing written on the pages, either. But then he turned it over, and the words were written on the back cover.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the letters read. A handsome script in gold.

 _Tom_.

The breath nearly tore out of his chest. With shaking hands, he put the book into his robe pock - no, that wouldn't be safe. His bag. It wouldn't drop. What if - but there was no one else there, he reminded himself. It was silent. Completely and utterly silent... he had to get back. Immediately. The dorms, he'd be safe there, or safer. If they found this... was he insane? It couldn't be the same Tom. He never knew Tom's name.

But there was something that told him this was special - a book that wouldn't dry, left amongst the ruins of some strange accident. His mouth dry, Harry shoved it into his bag and hurried out of the bathroom, uncaring if his robes got soaked. Not a moment too soon: down the hallways, the bright voices of two girls echoed. They were coming closer. He'd have to run, and run he did, not stopping until he got to the dungeons. Who cared if they heard? They didn't catch him.

He blurted out some gibberish and the snakes moved open. Trying to calm himself now that he was in the common room, Harry glanced around. Most of the students were studying. Was he mad? Perhaps. Trying not to look mad, he walked towards his room. The door closed with a clang behind him, locking him into the darkness.

With a frown, Harry lit the fire. His hands was clammy as he opened the bag, but the book slid out without a fight.

 _Tom_ , his fingers traced. But what did it mean...

He opened the book, letting the pages pass through his fingers. The parchment seemed old, but no tears were apparent. All he could see was that it was unused... but what about what he couldn't see?

 _When you don't know what's in front of you, look with your magic,_ Tom had said. _Magic will always let you look, but you must remember not to touch... every curse will be triggered by an action._

What did he see? Closing his eyes, he let the book rest in his hands. There was magic... lurking underneath the surface, nearly unnoticeable, but it was there. A trace. If was so familiar, and it pulled him along, beckoning...

With a sudden thud, Harry felt his body fall. The book was no longer in his hands - no, the floor was no longer beneath him, and he was falling through the air, through the darkness, until it suddenly stopped.

"How did you - open your eyes," a voice demanded. A boy - no, someone older.

With a gulp, Harry opened his eyes slowly.

 _Tom_.

He was younger, just older than Harry, but it was him. It was the same face, the same expression, the same voice, the same... Tom.

No, that wasn't right. He was in Hogwarts robes - but Tom had gone to Hogwarts, he had been Harry's age once.

"Tom." The words escaped before he could bring them back.

The boy paused, considering him. They were in a room just like Harry's, he noticed, as he looked around. Slowly, he pushed himself off the floor. Nothing felt quite right - he could stand, and the floor seemed solid, but it was a loose physicality, one that didn't quite seem real.

"You know me," the boy said slowly. "You didn't just read that..."

"I think you were... older," Harry replied, biting his lip as he realized how ridiculous _older_ sounded. How could he have been older? More precisely, how could he be younger... "You taught me to look at the magic. You were like a - a..." he added nervously. "I didn't mean to, um, well - this."

"That doesn't sound like me," the boy repeated irritably, ignoring Harry's unvoiced words. "I would have told you not to touch. And where are they? What did you do with them?"

"I didn't touch anything," Harry repeated in surprise.

"Yes you did," the boy scoffed. "You were touching the book when you used your magic. That's how I was able to - wait, I _have_ seen you before." He frowned. "It was _your_ magic this morning..."

"I didn't do anything this morning," Harry protested. "Except..." his voice faded as he remembered the dreams. "Those weren't dreams. Was that... you?"

The boy - Tom, Harry reminded himself, except it was hard to remember that the voice that had once been in his head had had a name - walked towards him. With a frown, Tom lifted his head up gently. Never had Harry felt more short.

"How were you able to answer that?" Tom whispered, his eyes slowly considering Harry. "You can't be more than a first year..."

"Second," Harry said, his mouth suddenly dry. "I'm a second year."

"Still." Tom's gaze never left him. "... how precisely did you meet my older self? I was under the impression he was dead."

"I don't know," Harry admitted nervously. "He was... he was a voice in my head..."

"Ah," Tom said with a surprised smile. "That would explain - _was_?"

"I - there was a professor last year," Harry said quickly. Tom had never missed a word, and it seemed his younger self didn't either. "He was trying to get to - well, something powerful -" Tom didn't seem surprised by _that_ , Harry noticed - "and there was a fight... he left. He was in my head one moment and then he wasn't... No one ever knew. They never asked."

"Interesting. But why precisely..." Harry shivered as he felt something graze his mind. "Who taught you to shield your mind?" Tom asked in surprise.

"Sirius Black," Harry answered immediately, somehow feeling bound to be truthful. There wasn't any point in playing games anyways, he decided, staring back into that dark gaze. Tom always caught his lies.

"Yes, that looks like Orion's work," Tom murmured. "Still, there's a connection... I could read your mind if I wanted to."

"I know," replied Harry. "So why don't you?" he asked bluntly.

"Sit," Tom answered, letting Harry's head fall from his hand. He walked back over to the bed, leaning against the canopy poles, and motioned to the desk chair. "I apologize for this morning. I didn't mean to hold your mind like that."

"What _was_ that?" Harry blurted out. "It was painful - I felt like I was going mad..."

Tom scowled slightly. "We were attempting an old form of magic, and got interrupted. I did shield the magic so Dumbledore wouldn't find out, but that meant it had to be contained... and if I had known this connection was open, I wouldn't have drawn you into it like... But now that you've told me my older self -"

"Slytherins, please come to the common room." Snape's voice echoed through the walls, his voice held by magic.

"It's coming from your side," Tom said quietly. "I hope this one isn't dead..."

" _What_?" Harry stared at him in shock. Tom seemed genuine - but -

"There isn't time," Tom said, raising his hand. "And you'll be noticed if you're missed. We'll talk after," he promised.

Before Harry could protest, the magic pulled away and his world was sent spinning once more. He was prepared this time, though, and let himself lie on the floor as he landed once more in his own room. His own world? Harry wasn't quite sure what had happened...

"Slytherins, please come to the common room."

With a groan, Harry pulled himself up from the floor and walked out of the rooms. It seemed like the other boys had already left. Pondering what Tom had said, he made his way down the corridor. Already there was a sizable crowd. The murmurs spread as more and more Slytherins came into the room.

" _Silence_ ," Snape ordered, his voice a cold wind through the crowd. Harry paused at the beginning of the dormitory hallway, listening at the edge of the crowd. "There has been another attack -"

"Who?" It had been a terrified whisper, but it echoed in the silence.

Their house professor seemed to weigh his words carefully. "A Hufflepuff," he said at last. "Petrified. The headmaster is notifying the parents. Until they are reached, the name will not be released. In the meantime, students will stay in the dormitories when not in class. I am also henceforth suspending all extracurricular activities for all Slytherins. Dinner will be served in the common room tonight, and I will work with your prefects to organize how you will travel to classes... and Mr. Crabbe. Mr. Goyle. Please come with me. " His tone was dangerously languid. A ripple went through the crowd, the students suddenly straining to look.

The two second years were pushed forward by the crowd, wilting under Snape's hard gaze. "That will be all."

The din returned as soon as Snape swept out of the room, but Harry ignored the mystery of Crabbe and Goyle for now and nearly raced back to his room. Yet just as many students seemed to have the same idea, and he found himself pushing against a sudden crowd.

Finally, he managed to break through as they passed the second years dormitory. Heart racing, he opened his door. Soon he'd have the answers he wanted - and he'd be able to talk to Tom.

He'd nearly forgotten how much he missed Tom. _But that isn't Tom_ , the voice in his head reminded him.

Walking forward purposefully to his bed, he shrugged off his robe. The fire lit itself with a wave of his hand and -

The fire shouldn't have gone out.

The book wasn't there.

A cold dread fell over Harry. Only Slytherins could enter the dorms... but with that crowd...

There were still so many questions. Who had Tom been working with? What magic was he using? And he knew about the...

 _Only Slytherins could enter the dorm._ Of course - the Heir of Slytherin. But someone who knew he had the book? Someone who had released the basilisk...

Someone whom he was now locked in with for the night.

 _I hope this one isn't dead._

What did Tom know?


	10. Who would Fardels bear

"Who would Fardels bear"

Harry didn't sleep well. He didn't sleep at all, in fact, and had risen early in the morning to map out what he now knew. It wasn't much, but it was something.

At eight, he was summoned out to the common room. They were all to walk in groups now, even to meals. Dinner would be taken in the common rooms. As they fell into line, Harry felt even more restless. Was the heir another second year? Doubtful. Likely a sixth or seventh year, if that. Maybe a teacher... which of the professors had been in Slytherin? With a cold shiver, Harry realized he didn't even know.

The Great Hall was abuzz with new rumors as the students settled in to breakfast. That another student was now lying petrified did not seem to dim any spirits - actually, Harry could have sworn he heard a betting pool going on...

"Didn't you hear?" Draco asked, pleased with himself as he tore into a blueberry muffin. Harry turned back to his friend. "Idiot One and Idiot Two got detention. I wish I could have seen that conversation... though how do you think they managed to impersonate Crabbe and Goyle?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry said with a yawn.

"They broke into the common room last night to interrogate Draco," Tracey said, frowning. "And I don't think it's funny," she added sharply to Draco. "Somehow they managed to impersonate Crabbe and Goyle and left the two of them stunned in some first floor hallway. They were in the Hospital Wing all night."

"Look on the bright side," Draco said cheerfully. "I've been upgraded from 'that idiot Malfoy' to the fucking Heir of Slytherin. Sounds awesome to me -"

"Oh, shut up," Tracey said suddenly. "Don't you understand?" She glanced around them and leaned in. "We're locked in here. We can't leave. _Do you understand that?"_

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, placing her toast back onto her plate carefully. "Surely they'll evacuate the school now that... Tracey?"

Tracey was shaking her head. "My parents asked permission to remove me from school. Dumbledore wouldn't grant it."

"What do you mean, permission?" Hermione replied, puzzled. "They're your parents, they don't need..."

"We're legally required to go to school," Draco answered, his voice a little quieter now. "Don't they have that law in the muggle world?"

"Yes, but - with exceptions," Hermione said slowly. "Like homeschooling. Or going to a different school. Or..."

"Did you have another school, Hermione?" Tracey asked, glancing over at Draco before looking back to the other witch. "Or were you only told about Hogwarts?"

"Yes, but -" Hermione glanced between the three of them. "I just thought there weren't enough children for another school," she admitted slowly. "I don't know. It's Hogwarts. Who wouldn't want to come to Hogwarts?"

Tracey chuckled dryly. "Have you heard from your father, Draco?" she asked, changing the subject. "Surely he's tried to do something."

"No, but maybe something will come with the post," Draco replied. "Though it's past eight thirty... normally it comes by now..."

The four Slytherins glanced at each other, suddenly desperately aware of how quiet the Great Hall was.

* * *

"How did you manage to talk to him?" Narcissa demanded. "We didn't even bother to send a letter. Severus warned us a week ago that Dumbledore was stopping the post."

Sirius shrugged in response. "If it makes you feel any better, only Harry responded. He was in a bit of a panic... though he wouldn't quite say why." Sirius shifted in his chair. The window into his office let a little of the moonlight through, and it traced a wide arc over his desk. Both of them were still in their dress robes from the party, though Narcissa's hair had slipped out of her bun as she paced his office.

"Who wouldn't be?" Narcissa responded bluntly. "And no one seems to have the diary - no thanks to your little lie, by the way," she added.

Sirius bit his lip, considering the glass of scotch in his hand. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "We shouldn't have kept that from you. But we only wanted to -"

"I can take care of myself," Narcissa said, waving off his apology. "And you can ask my forgiveness if our children don't end up petrified - or worse, _dead_. Merlin, Lily is going to kill me..." At that thought, Narcissa glided over to the drinks cart and poured herself a vodka.

"Well, you hid that from me," Sirius pointed out. "And I still don't know where she is. Do you?"

"No, but that's not necessary," Narcissa replied, taking a sip as she turned back to him. "And she was upset enough with Lockheart teaching. The only reason she hasn't come back now is she can't take Harry out of school even if she wanted to."

"Yes, I remember those rumors," Sirius said grimly. "I know some parents have warned their daughters. Not to mention his complete lack of skill in any area. It's appalling, to allow a man like that to teach. Even for Dumbledore's standards."

"Oh please, it's a miracle there's any standards at those school," Narcissa shot back. "Remember Quirrell? A dark wizard nearly kills the students - nearly kills _Potter_ , now there's a thought - and not so much as a peep to the parents. And have you even heard about what happened to Crabbe and Goyle's sons this week?" she demanded.

"Yes, Severus already spoke to me - I managed to calm him down, but that idiot Dumbledore only gave the two of them detention. With McGonagall, no less. A basilisk free in the school, and no punishment for leaving two students unconscious -"

"We don't know it's a basilisk," Narcissa said dryly. "Dumbledore insists it's not, and asked Lucius why precisely he seemed so sure of it."

"Lucius shouldn't have said anything..." Sirius said with a frown. "There's no way to prove it. No good way, at least. Though I'm surprised Dumbledore even denied it, it's not like there's any other explanation for what's going on."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll find an explanation," Narcissa said quietly. "They always do."

* * *

There had been no voice this time. The only notice they were given early Saturday morning was that they were to make their way back to their dormitories immediately. Without a word, the prefect gathered them into a group on the stands of the Quidditch pitch. Despite Snape's insistence otherwise, Dumbledore had ordered the game to go ahead. Good for school morale, apparently. Admittedly, every student was at the game, shivering in the cold May air through several delays. As Draco had pointed out dryly as they saw him off with the team, no one had been petrified on the Quidditch pitch yet.

"WhO do you think this one is?" Pansy whispered as she stood huddled with Daphne. "The teams didn't come out. Maybe it's someone on them?"

"We saw the Slytherins leave together," Hermione pointed out, shivering in her robe. "Maybe a Gryffindor? That'd explain why they wouldn't start the game..."

"Maybe it was Potter this time," Tracey muttered under her breath. Hermione shot her a warning glare, though no one around them heard. "What? It'd be the best thing that happened to us this year."

"Well, only if it attacked Weasley too," Hermione deadpanned.

Tracey snorted. "Draco was right, it's always better to look on the bright side. Here, we're moving out. At least we'll be in the warmth soon..."

Harry lost them for a moment as the house crowded together, moving as one. Whispers came here and there, rumors flying as to who had been attacked this time. A Ravenclaw this time... But then there was also a new rumor, one that slowly began to grow until it drowned everything else out. Harry couldn't believe it.

Caught.

They'd caught the Heir.

Harry felt his heart stop. If they caught the Heir, had they discovered the book? What would come next? Would they find him? No, Tom wouldn't give him up... not willingly. But the questions would come. Would he be next? He hadn't told anyone, not even Sirius. What if -

With some force - a surprising amount, he would note later - Harry found himself pulled out of the crowd. For a moment he panicked: had they found him? Merlin, they had. It'd be -

With a blink, his eyes adjusting to the dark, he found himself in front of a short redhead.

"Who -"

"Shhh," she whispered frantically, motioning outside the alcove.

After a few moments, the footsteps passed.

"Why -"

"Tom sent me," the girl said frantically. "He said you would help - I -"

"Help with what?" Harry said dumbly, trying to figure out who was in front of him. "Was there another attack? I thought they caught the Heir..."

"No, no, it's all wrong," the redhead replied. Was she crying? No, it was hard to tell in the darkness. "This wasn't supposed to happen. It's not her, but they don't care -"

"Her?" repeated Harry. The girl in front of him was a first year... how did she get caught up in all of this? None of it made any sense.

"Fia," the redhead blurted out. "They have Fia - and it's all my fault -"

Harry's blood ran cold, that small amount of panic enough to calm him. "Fia," he repeated. "Why do they have Fia?"

"They think she's the Heir," the girl said breathlessly.

"Why?" he demanded. "Calm down," ordered Harry, thought whether that was to him or to the girl, he wasn't quite sure. "Why would they think she's the Heir? She's a first year... she's a Black."

"We - we were exploring this year," the first year stammered. "She was nice! But we had to sneak around since - since -"

"You're a Gryffindor," Harry pointed out bluntly, eying the crimson stain of her robes. "She's a Slytherin."

The girl nodded. "And my brothers -"

"Oh, Merlin," Harry replied, the realization settling in like a cold dread. "You're a _Weasley_. Why the hell did you drag her into that?"

"I liked her!" Weasley protested. "We were friends. And I didn't have - I - Gryffindors aren't..." her voice died away for a moment. "Tom was nice, too. And he showed us places to explore, where we could just hang out, and no one would know..."

"The Chamber?" Harry said in confusion. "That's where she -"

"It's not like you noticed," the girl said sulkily. "She said you never hung out with her this year. Like you forgot all about her."

It was Harry's turn to protest. "I had school! And - I was busy. With stuff. Studying," he added, aware of how lame his protest was. "And I didn't tell her to go down to the Chamber."

"So? We weren't doing any harm -"

"Until you released a bloody _Basilisk_?" Harry demanded. "How stupid do you have to be -"

"That wasn't us!" the girl whispered urgently. "That's what I'm trying to tell you - what I would have told them - those _idiots_ -"

"If it wasn't you, who was it?" Harry replied incredulously. "You went into - Merlin, why would Tom drag two first years into something like that -"

"Because it was safe!" the Weasley girl replied. "We - I don't know," she admitted, softly this time. "Somehow she got loose. We didn't know it was connected at first. But then when we told Tom... he was - I've never seen him that angry. He didn't want us to go down again," she added. "He said we couldn't lock her up, that we wouldn't be able to do it on our own. But Fia said we had to do something, so we got him to help us figure out a ritual that - well, it would have stopped her from leaving again."

"... Her?"

"Tom said her name's Regina," the girl said primly. "Anyways, when we tried to go back down, she was, uh, loose again, and -"

Harry laughed nervously. "Please - ah, please don't tell me that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in the girl's bathroom..."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Oh please. No one ever uses that one anyways, since it floods. Moaning Myrtle would have told anyone who asked. It's not exactly hard to figure out -"

"And Fia stole the book back from my room," Harry interrupted in sudden realization. "That was fortuitous for you two," he pointed out. "Tom would have told me everything if -"

"It wasn't like we were doing anything illegal," the girl protested. "What was there to tell? And Tom's perfectly nice."

"A talking book that takes you to the Chamber of Secrets? Yes, perfectly innocent," Harry replied sarcastically. "Explains how Fia got arrested. Why weren't you?" he demanded.

"I'm - I'm sorry about that," the girl said quietly. "We were going down into the Chamber - we had Tom back, and we were going to stop the Basilisk... I didn't realize they'd followed us," she admitted. "It was Charles and Ron. They stunned her. I would have done something but - but I closed the Chamber instead."

"You -"

"I was in a panic!" the girl said defensively. "What was I supposed to do? Let them in? Regina already petrified someone today. By the time I came back out, they'd gone, and I heard some rumor they'd caught the Heir. They don't have any proof," she added insistently. "Or they're not going to."

Harry considered her with some surprise. Fia couldn't be held as the Heir if...

"Come on," the girl said urgently. "I already know what to say -"

"What precisely is the plan?" Harry asked bluntly. "I don't exactly know how to petrify you. It's not something they teach in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Pretend I've been taken," the girl said, shrugging. "Write a message like the first one, then Fia will get freed. She can't be the Heir if she didn't write the message and kidnap me. Basilisks can't kidnap people."

"But no one else got kidnapped. Why do you think anyone would believe that?"

"Because they're idiots who thought a first year let a Basilisk loose in the first place...?"

"That doesn't solve the rescuing you part though. I'm not supposed to be the one kidnapping you, right?" he added.

"I hadn't thought that part through yet," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "But you can help put the Basilisk back," she said. "I need someone to help, and Tom said you would be able."

"Yeah, I need to have a word with Tom," Harry said darkly. "Well, come on," he added, opening the curtain. "Lead the way."

* * *

"Miss Black," Dumbledore began, smiling gently at the girl in front of him as the two boys glowered from the other side of his office. "I think we can all agree that there is a reasonable answer to what happened here today. Wouldn't you agree?"

But the girl wouldn't look at him. Instead she sat huddled in her chair, her dark brown hair falling in a wave over her face. He frowned. That wouldn't do - it wouldn't do at all. If she would only meet his eyes...

"Lemon drop?" he asked pleasantly, chuckling when she finally shook her head. "Ah, well, they're not for everyone. My brother never liked them either," he said conspiratorially.

No, she still wouldn't raise her head. "Mr. Potter, perhaps you could explain once more what - "

Charles, the impudent little brat, interrupted him immediately. "She was hunched over some huge _hole_ in the middle of the bathroom," he said imperiously. "We found her right there. She was about to jump in. Clearly -"

"Mr. Potter, perhaps it would be better if you wait outside," he said gently, trying his best not to give into his urge to throw him out altogether. "You as well, Mr. Weasley," he added. "I will speak to Miss Black alone -"

"But I'm the _Boy Who_ -"

"Yes, and you have saved us all from a terrible threat." Albus Dumbledore smiled benevolently at him. "We must talk later," he promised. "I expect your great uncle and father will be most proud."

Why, he asked himself, had it seemed like a good idea to test the Potter boy like this? Well, they needed a hero - and unfortunately he would have to see to it that the school knew of his heroism. _A shame_ , he thought, as he considered the lemon drops in front of him. If only he could get the Black girl to eat one. It'd puff the boy up even more - but it would all be worth it, to rally the families to his side once more. Why Charlus thought he was training the boy was beyond him. It wasn't training, it was -

"May I see my father?" the girl asked nervously. He nearly didn't hear her, her voice was so quiet.

"I've already sent an owl," Albus promised. The smallest one in the flock. And with the wards around Black's house - well, it wouldn't get there anytime soon. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to set the girl at ease.

"Miss Black, I do not believe you are the cause of this," said the headmaster, cutting right through the thick of it. "The Chamber is burdened with an old, ancient kind of magic - one too strong for any first year to control... no, Miss Black, I do not believe it was you."

"I'd like to see my father," the girl answered again, drawing further into herself.

"Of course," Albus replied, smiling. "Though unfortunately, some action must be taken. And you have been discovered at the scene of the crime. A crime for which, unfortunately, the penalty is… Azkaban."

She stiffened. He could practically smell her fear, it warped her magic into a delightful twist.

But," he said, as gently as he could, "you can still save yourself. Just tell me how you did it."

* * *

The door burst open just as he was getting the girl to crack. He cursed inwardly. If this was the stupid boy -

"Albus," Minerva said frantically, as she flew into the room. "We must - Miss Black?"

"Is everything quite alright, Minerva?" Albus said calmly. Perhaps he could still keep control of this interrogation. "Miss Black and I were just talking -"

"No, Albus," Minerva said stiffly in visible annoyance. "Everything is not quite alright - the students are in a panic, we had to evacuate the entire Quidditch pitch -"

"Yes, and as I have announced, we have the person responsible -"

"Really, Albus?" Minerva shot back. "A first year is responsible for this mess? Then why is there a Gryffindor missing? Clearly we do _not_ have the person responsible."

"Which Gryffindor?" Albus demanded.

"Miss Weasley," Minerva said coldly. "I just had the most unfortunate job of informing her brother. I sent him straight to the Hospital Wing - Molly should be arriving any moment. Now, Miss Black, please come with me - your father has requested to see you -"

"Minerva -" Albus warned.

" _Immediately_ ," Minerva continued, ignoring the headmaster, and shuffled the girl out of the office. She still wouldn't look at him, the fool.

Well. Albus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. A student missing... four or five nobodies were fine, but getting up to six was really pushing his authority. Hopefully the Basilisk hadn't killed her. And anyways, how had Black managed to turn up so quickly?

* * *

"Don't you think this might be a little grim?" asked Harry, as they stood back to look at their handiwork. The way the blood dripped was an especially nice touch, he had to admit - "and where precisely did you get _blood_?" Harry added.

"Spell Fred and George taught me," Ginny said flippantly. "Used to freak Mum out all the time. I dunno, 'Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever' seems exactly what some crazy person who wants to kill everyone would say."

"It's a little obvious, but you have a point," Harry admitted. "They'll probably believe it's the Heir. And just who is supposed to be the Heir?" he asked, as he followed her back into the bathroom.

"Open," Ginny demanded. "Took me so long to figure out how to do that," she admitted, frowning. "Fia was so much better than me. Stand back," warned Ginny.

"I -" Harry jumped back a bit, startled as the floor started to rumble, the huge sink in the middle moving back in bits and pieces as if a puzzle. "Potter and Weasley saw _that_?" he asked in surprise, eying the large hole now in the middle of the floor. "Well, that does make more sense why they'd stun her..."

"I don't think they saw us open it," Ginny said. "Stairs! Here." She led him over to where there was a hidden stone staircase growing out of the side of the tunnel. "It's really not entirely subtle. Tom said there was another entrance, since the Basilisk can use this one, but it's in the Slytherin common rooms and I can't get in."

"Aren't you nervous the Basilisk might come through here?" Harry asked, following the Gryffindor down into the darkness as the entrance closed up on top of them again.

"Trust me, you'll hear her if she does," Ginny said quietly. "Here - careful, we're about to step down onto the floor." Something crunched under her feet as she said that.

Carefully, Harry made his way off the steps, and into - "are these _bones_?"

"We tried to tidy up a bit, but we really don't know enough spells," Ginny admitted. With a wave of her wand, small lights lit up, illuminating the cavern they found themselves in.

Harry was mildly shocked as he took in his surroundings. The floor was littered with the remnants of bones - mice, maybe, but also bigger animals, animals that by right should not have been easily killed... and as they moved down the hall, the milky white, curled up -

"Regina shed recently," Ginny said apologetically. "Sorry. We're nearly past it."

" _Shed_?" Harry said, a little shocked. It was one thing to read about it... yet another to see the skin of - a what? twenty? thirty? _forty_? - foot snake entirely. It laid criss crossed across the chamber they entered, too long to even be held out in its whole form. "How did it even get into the castle..."

"We tried to figure that out, actually," admitted Ginny. "Tom said something about the pipes, but I think he was just trying to shut us up. He really hates telling secrets. Probably cause I'm not a Slytherin... oh, here we are," she said absentmindedly, as they came to a wall with snakes holding a large shield. "Open." The snakes began to slither across the wall, moving just as if they had been real. Both of them struggled a little to get over the threshold.

The chamber they entered took Harry's breath away.

* * *

Charles and Ron made their way down through the corridors, avoiding the main staircases.

"We'll be back up in ten minutes," Charles reasoned. "They won't miss us. We can get down to the kitchens and back up before they even know we're gone."

"You're right, I'm starving," Ron announced. "You'd think Dumbledore would have given us something to eat, seeing as we saved..." his voice trailed off as they rounded the corner on the second floor.

"Yes, it'd be nice to get some more appreciation when I save everyone," Charles replied reflexively, glancing behind them to make sure no one was there. "Ow," he complained loudly as he slammed into Ron. "Watch it -"

But Ron wasn't paying attention to him. Instead, he was standing gape mouthed in the middle of the corridor.

Rubbing his shoulder, Charles walked to the side of him.

"Professor?" Ron said in confusion. Lockheart spun around in surprise.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter. This is - a - a _surprise_."

"What are you doing here?" Ron said in confusion. "Is that _blood_?"

"It was here when I got here!" Lockheart replied quickly. "That is - I mean, a terrible tragedy. I, ah, heard your sister had gone missing and had come to investigate," Lockheart said with a shit eating grin. "Of course. Since I'm the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. And I obviously know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is. Which you should not come with me to find - I'm perfectly capable of rescuing your sister myself -" he laughed, moving towards them.

A cold washed over Charles as he read the message. _Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever..._ The door to the girls' bathroom stood there, taunting him. But that hadn't been there before, when they took that Slytherin to Dumbledore...

"What are you two doing here?" Lockheart said suddenly, eying them. "You're supposed to be in the dormitories. All the students are."

"We were just going to the ki-" Ron began, before Lockheart cut them off.

"Rescue your sister," Lockheart said, beaming. "Very noble. Not to worry, I have it all in hand. Run along back to your dorms," he added, as he moved past them. "I'll go down to the Chamber myself -"

"Sir, isn't the Chamber that way?" Ron said in confusion, pointing towards the girls' bathroom.

"So it is," Lockheart chuckled, as if trying to sound reassuring. "Very astute of you. Now that I think about it... Mr. Potter, I would be honored to have you by my side as I fight this beast."

"Of course," Charles said frankly, the fear passing through him. Ginny, in the hands of the monster - he was the Boy Who Lived. He had to do something.

" _Really_?" Ron whispered at him in shock.

"Really?" Lockheart said at the same time, looking a tad more cheerful. "Well, yes, of course. You are a hero."

"Let's go," Charles said with determination, leading the group into the bathroom he'd first seen the tunnel in. But how had that girl done it? Had she done it? He eyed the sinks - perhaps he'd been wrong. If she'd only had the misfortune to be there... well, he had saved her from a worse fate. But still, he thought to himself, frowning. That was the reason Ginny was down there now.

"Stand back," Lockheart ordered. "This requires an advanced form of magic. I've seen it before, I'm afraid. Very ancient. The same kind that hid the vampires from me. But not to worry! I can open the entrance for us in a moment... boys, if you will please turn away and take a few steps back..."

Charles and Ron obeyed, and not a moment too soon, for just as they turned their heads a loud boom echoed through the bathroom and the floor began to groan.

"What did you do?" Ron asked nervously, eying the tunnel that began to open.

"Oh. Ancient magic," Lockheart replied quickly. "Very advanced. You wouldn't know it. If you please?" he motioned forward. "You'll just have to jump."

Charles looked down the darkness beneath them. Well, no choice then. Besides, he was the Boy Who Lived - it wasn't like he was going to die in some dark tunnel. Scoffing, he let himself fall through. It wasn't too bad - after a slight fall, it turned into a bit of a slide. With a groan, he landed on his backside. After a few moments in the dark, he heard the two of them land behind him.

Ignoring them for a moment, he began to walk forward. Light emerged from one of the tunnels ahead of them, illuminating the bones they were stepping on.

"Bloody hell. What sort of monster would leave this?" he heard Ron ask unnerved behind him. "All these bones..." But Ron suddenly shut up, and Charles knew why. As they stepped into the tunnel, the light revealed a far worse secret - a translucent snake skin, that stretched as far as the eye could see...

"I don't know," Charles admitted quietly. "I've never heard of such a snake."

"Oh, perk up boys," Lockheart said far too cheerfully, bringing up the rear. "Let's go. Can't leave Miss Weasley to the monster alone. Besides, what's so scary about a snake?"

The three of them moved forward through the tunnel. Just ahead seemed to be a wall - no, Charles saw, some sort of doorway that led to another tunnel. That had to be -

"Charles, look out!" Ron screamed. The awful sound filled the air, and Charles leapt forward instinctively. Coughing, he got to his feet as the air cleared. But it was no use, he saw as he glanced behind him. The walls had tumbled down... "Ron? Sir? Are you alright?"

"Oh no," the reply came, echoing through the cavern. "You'll have to go through alone, Mr. Potter. Nothing to be done. Not to worry about us, though. We're perfectly alright."

"We'll clear these rocks, Charles," Ron said determinedly. "Quickly -"

"Best hurry, Mr. Potter," Lockheart said calmly. "Miss Weasley needs you."


	11. To grunt and sweat

"To grunt and sweat"

It was marvelous in its beauty - scary, perhaps, for those not in Slytherin - but a cold grandeur nonetheless. They entered into a long pathway surrounded on either side by water. The walls held the heads of delicately carved stone snakes, and at the very end, the carving of a man's face, his beard flowing out on either side... "Slytherin," Harry said in surprise, then realized how obvious he sounded. "Should there be water here?" he added, feeling the water beginning to seep into his shoes.

"It's not supposed to, Tom said," Ginny replied, as they made their way down the vast cavern. "It's only supposed to be two rivers by the walls... something might have busted the pipes, but we're not entirely sure where the water is coming in from... here we are." She stopped them in front of the statue of Slytherin. "She must be sleeping," Ginny said. Harry noticed her hands were shaking. Carefully, she placed Tom's book down in front of them. "I, um, I didn't want to leave it out here," she explained nervously. "Not with someone wandering around..."

"What do we do?" Harry interjected. "I mean, I talked to him before, but -"

But he was cut off as before them, the book began to twist and turn in the water. It seemed to shrug - if a book could even shrug - and Harry felt it hit him suddenly, a wave that threatened to drown him. But it was a familiar feeling, an aura that echoed across the room like a siren's call, beckoning him in. Magic that spoke of power, of knowledge, of strength... the aura of Sirius, of Bellatrix, of Rhia, of...

 _Of Tom._

And when he opened his eyes, letting the magic wash over him like a calming boon, he saw the boy once more.

"You never did tell me your name," Tom said, considering him in the new light.

"Harry," he said, his mouth dry. "Harry Steward." The words came unbidden, though an echo he hadn't heard for years rung in his head. No, not Steward... but he ignored it.

"He can help." Tom told Ginny. "Come -"

"How can you be here?" Harry interrupted suddenly. "In the -"

"The magic in this chamber sustains me," Tom said slowly, silencing Harry. "It's not the easiest to project like this, but it can be done. Now you must listen to me - what was that?" he said suddenly, frustration suddenly showing.

"What?" Ginny asked. "Tom, you said we had to summon the Basilisk -"

"Someone's opening the entrance," Tom said coldly.

Ginny went white. "The boys knew the entrance..."

 _Whomever released the Basilisk knew the entrance._

Tom glanced at Harry, and Harry knew he was thinking the same thing. "Come. There isn't time. If they've entered the chamber, it'll only be a few minutes."

"How did they enter it though?" Ginny said worriedly. "You said no one else knew the language."

"You just told it to open," Harry said in confusion, but the two of them ignored him.

"We don't have time," Tom urged. "Come. Regina must be put to sleep once more, before something worse happens."

"Tom -" Ginny began, but was cut off suddenly but a sudden boom. Voices rose in the corridor outside. She cursed under her breath. " _Potter_."

"The Boy Who Lived," Tom said with a cold smile. "How interesting. Is he coming to save you?"

"The idiot." Ginny groaned. "What am I going to do?"

"Yes, unfortunately you won't be able to leave without some sort of explanation now," Tom said calmly.

"Tom!" Ginny complained, turning to face him. "What do I do?"

"We'll summon Regina," Tom said with a shrug.

"We can't kill him," Harry pointed out. A cold dread passed over him, but Tom didn't seem too worried. This Tom, at least, he reminded himself. A Tom who seemed far more foolhardy...

"We're not going to," replied Tom, who began to pace in front of the statue, considering it. "Regina needs to go to sleep. But who's to say where?"

"But -" Ginny started, a little nervous.

Harry understood at once though. "He'll think she's dead."

"Asleep, dead, it's all the same," Tom replied, but then looked at Harry. "Though that doesn't solve the issue of the scapegoat..."

"No," Harry and Ginny said at the same time, then glanced at each other.

"Harry's not going down for this," Ginny said suddenly. "We'll find -"

"That's not what he means to do," Harry interrupted, a strange lump in his throat as he looked at the boy once more. "Please don't. Not again."

Tom smiled curiously. "The headmaster knows there is only one heir of Slytherin, Harry," he said softly. "And I think you understand that."

"Harry?" Ginny asked slowly. "What does he mean?"

Tom ignored her. "Go, Harry," he urged. "Take the third tunnel on the left. You must not be found here."

"But I -"

"Oh, I think we'll meet again," Tom said with some confidence. "Go," he repeated, holding Harry's gaze. "You must trust me. You'll feel the effects, I'm sure of it. Better not to be knocked out in the open. The further away you are, the better it will be."

"I didn't tell you all of that for you to leave again," Harry protested. Ginny stood by silently, though he wasn't sure if she understood what he was admitting. He wasn't sure he understood. "Please. Don't do this. We didn't even get to speak..."

"Be reasonable, Harry," Tom said calmly. "You understand what must happen."

" _No_ ," Harry repeated stubbornly. "Why does it have to be you?"

"I'll survive," pointed out Tom. "Now that I know what awaits me. The diary is nothing, but it will convince Dumbledore of -"

"Why?" Harry repeated in anger. "Why will it convince him? Why did no one question it before?"

"You know why." Tom said slowly. "Go, Harry. Leave while you can."

And then he turned to Ginny, leaving Harry to his own growing dread.

"Now, Ginny," he heard Tom say, as he left for the third tunnel on the left. "When Regina falls asleep, I will open that door. Pretend to wake up slowly. And whatever they ask, say you only saw a boy in the diary..." Slowly, the voices died in the distance.

He made his way through the darkness, only seeing the intermittent light. It would lead to the Slytherin common room, he realized. The passage -

The pain swept over him like a tsunami, leaving him gasping for air. He fell to the floor with a groan. His mind felt ripped, something lost. But answered wouldn't come. Dimly, he remembered Quirell, how his head - the _blood_ \- had left him unconscious, crippled over in pain, choking for a breath that wouldn't come.

But as soon as it came, it left, and Harry leaned over, the air racing through his lungs fresh and unlike anything he'd ever tasted. It was done...

There was nothing left to do, he realized. He could drown... or he could live.

With a cry, he pulled himself to his feet. He was so close...

"Open," he hissed at the wall, and with a cry, he fell into the darkened chamber, thankful for the relief.

* * *

"Charles," she whispered, blinking. "You came...?"

"Sush, Ginny," Charles said gently, racing forward to lift her up. "How...?" He'd nearly shit his pants, when he first entered the chamber, but when the door swung open and the snake didn't move... "What happened?" he asked.

"I - I don't know -" Ginny stammered, and then groaned.

"No, careful," Charles said quickly, holding her closer. "You can't - I know this must be alarming, but I'm here now. We have to leave," he added, taking in the surroundings.

"The book..." Ginny groaned.

With a frown, Charles knelt. It was nothing special, a strange little book, sopped in the water that surrounded them. "I have it," he said awkwardly. "Come on."

"I thought you wouldn't come," Ginny whispered, as they hurried past the prone form of the snake. He tried to hide his shudder - she needed rescuing now, that was what he had to focus on.

"Come on," he said, pulling her close to him as they went back through the entranceway. Behind them, the door swung shut. Thank Merlin. He never wanted to go back there.

"What's going on?" Ginny said slowly, leaning into him as they took in the scene ahead. The rocks had nearly been cleared. And Ron -

"Ginny!" Ron said cheerfully. "You're alive!"

"We killed the snake," Charles replied. "It's over."

But as he leapt forward - it happened in a flash, too fast for Charles to see. Within a moment, Lockheart had grabbed Ron's wand and forced it to his neck. "Drop your wand," the professor ordered coolly. " _Now_."

Gulping down a sudden wave of fear, Charles lowered his wand. It slipped from his fingers unconsciously. Ginny shifted nervously, trying to hide behind him. He had to stay strong for her sake. She had only him to protect her.

"So," Lockheart said, eying him as he shift slightly. "You rescued the girl. Noble, I suppose."

"What are you doing?" Charles demanded, nearly paralyzed by the fear.

"Oh, don't fret." Lockheart smiled coldly. "The world will know what happened here. How Charles Potter and his friend -"

"Hey!" Ron protested, only to get a jab in the throat with his own wand.

"- lost their lives as they tried to save the girl from the Chamber of Secrets," Lockheart continued, ignoring him. "How I, Gilderoy Lockheart, bravely avenged their deaths... killing the beast within and saving the castle from a most gruesome deaths. I have to thank you, Mr. Potter - you've given me such a better story than I dreamed."

"Charles," Ron whispered, terrified. "Charles, he knew how to open the Chamber..."

"Come now," Lockheart said with a grin. "You didn't really think some first year unleashed a Basilisk on the school, did you?"

"What's a Basilisk?" Ron said dumbly.

"Silence," Lockheart ordered, eying Charles with a strange glint in his eye. "I need to concentrate. Memory charms are a little tricky, you see, and I'll need to erase quite a bit so you can't ever leave..."

"Why the bloody hell are you good at memory charms?" Ron repeated blithely.

"You really just won't shut up, will you?" demanded Lockhart, turning to Ron. "I never liked children, though I didn't really have a choice when Dumbledore asked. This'll shut him up for good. I really can't have Albus Dumbledore running around telling everyone I'm a fraud... really not good for business you see."

"But all that stuff in your books -" Ginny said, poking her head out from where she was hiding behind Charles.

"Books are always easy to write," Lockhart replied smugly. "Besides, no one was there to say anything different..."

"You didn't actually do the things in your book, did you?" Charles demanded, a cold realization sweeping over him as he saw the situation and the threat of a memory charm in a new light. "You just... oh Merlin." _What had his tutor said about memory charms?_ No, they hadn't covered them. Only battle magic. He tensed his muscles. No, he knew what to do. He could save them all.

"I hadn't expected Dumbledore to hand me a new book on top of this," Lockhart admitted. "It'll be a bestseller, I'm sure of it. Me, avenging The Boy Who Lived? Wonderful, truly wonderful. Truly the icing on top of the cake. I'll just have to rework the ending to what I have now - boys, I really must thank you -"

"Professor," Ginny piped up behind him, "what _do_ you have now?" She was really being so brave, and she must have been so frightened, blabbering away like that.

"Since you asked," Lockhart said smugly, "I suppose I can give you a preview - it's really nice to be able to finally tell someone, you know. All those professors, laughing behind my back. Well, they won't laugh now. If only they knew how truly brilliant I am. I can't take credit for the opening of the Chamber, of course - I really just stumbled into that in the fall - but it was easy enough to learn how to open it, and then just to let the Basilisk out. Horrid little beast, but it served its purpose." Charles felt Ginny tense in fear behind him. While Lockhart was occupied, he slowly began to inch down to grab his wand. "Then it was just a matter of killing the beast - it's the first one I've actually ever slayed myself," he admitted modestly. "I have a rooster in my office, just waiting to kill it. Really very simple -"

"So why didn't you just bring that in with us?" Ron demanded.

"What, and save you two?" Lockhart asked, puzzled. "Oh, I suppose I could have," he replied, thinking about it for a moment. "But then I'd have to share the stage, and I'm really not interested in that - oh, no, Mr. Potter," he said abruptly in anger. "Don't you do that. No, that won't do at all." He raised his wand to Charles before Charles could even move, and a sudden panic struck him. The light filled the chamber - there wasn't any time -

The boom echoed through the corridor. Coughing, Charles tried to whip away the dust.

Charles. His name was Charles, and he was in the Chamber of Secrets, and -

He blinked. Lockhart was sprawled on his back - and to his side, Ginny was there...

"You saved me," he said dumbly, looking at the red head. "How?" But Ginny seemed overwhelmed for a moment, and with a small sigh, her legs seemed to give out under her. "Ginny!" he said in alarm, grabbing her before she fainted to the ground.

"I think Lockhart lost his memory," Ron shouted from down the corridor. "Are you guys okay?" he added, after a moment's pause.

"Yeah, Ginny just fainted," Charles shouted back. "I can carry her. Come on, let's get out of here."

* * *

Harry woke with a yawn. The sunlight was shining brightly across the room. It must have been late in the afternoon - wait, that was wrong. The sunlight didn't come through the -

"- I'm sure you had your reasons," Sirius Black said coldly. "But dragging my daughter in - with no adult present - is absolutely against school rules."

Harry slammed his eyes shut and groaned inwardly. The damn Hospital Wing, again. Was he going to end every school year like this?

"Oh, it was only a chat." The headmaster's voice was sickeningly grandfather like. "I apologize most heartily, Sirius -"

"Lord Black," Sirius said slowly, as if speaking to a dimwit.

"I do apologize." They must have been a few beds down, but Harry could feel Sirius' anger from across the room. _But what was he doing here - had_...? "We have caught the person responsible."

"Yes, Lockhart never was the most trustworthy. That's the second professor you've employed that has attempted to kill students," Sirius pointed out.

"Ah, but they do have one thing in common," Dumbledore replied slowly. "I have reason to believe that Lord Voldemort - fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself, Lord Black - was involved in both... misfortunes."

"You have proof of this?" Sirius replied coldly.

"His magic was present on Professor Quirrell's body," answered Dumbledore calmly. "And a strange diary was found at the scene of this crime, a diary with the remnants of dark, ancient magic... no, I do not believe Professor Lockhart came upon this alone."

"Unfortunate, then, that Lockhart cannot be questioned."

"No, he confessed it all to young Potter before he was obliviated," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "An unfortunate happenstance, but a young girl's first love is quite pure, and Miss Weasley could not help but defend Mr. Potter. I understand she is still a bit tired from it all."

"Of course," Sirius said blithely.

"I am sorry for doubting your intentions," Dumbledore added. "You must understand... it was quite clear that Lord Voldemort was behind this from the beginning. But I did not foresee that a diary from his time as Tom Marvolo Riddle would make its way into the unsuspecting hands of our Defense Professor -"

The blood rushed into Harry's ears at Dumbledore's words, blocking out the rest of the conversation. Dimly, he was aware that they were leaving the Hospital Wing, leaving only silence in their wake.

Voldemort. Lord Voldemort. He Who Must Not Be Named.

Tom.

Yes, he had known. Somehow. But - but Tom had never said, had never said anything outright. Tom? Lord Voldemort? The murderer, the fanatic, the beast... and why? How? He was nothing special, nothing at all -

 _My followers._

 _Slytherin's Heir._

 _I go by many names._

Tom - no, Lord Voldemort, in his head.

 _What did He Who Must Not Be Named want with him?_

 _Why had he never said anything?_

Panic, anger, misery, rose in a violent mix within him. He wanted to throw up and sob at the same time. Tom - no, he wasn't Tom. Tom had never existed. Tom was a lie. Tom -

"Mr. Steward, you're awake," Madame Pomfrey buzzed, making her way over.

"Why - why am I here?" Harry said softly, moving into an upward position slowly. The headmaster hadn't said anything - not that Sirius had, either...

"Your dorm mates brought you in," Madame Pomfrey said as she bustled about, eying him sharply. "Said you'd passed out from exhaustion. They're quite worried about you, you know."

"I'm not tired," Harry argued automatically.

"Mr. Steward," Madame Pomfrey replied gently, settling the pillows behind him so he'd be more comfortable. "You are not the first student to come in like this, and I doubt you'll be the last. And I do hope you'll listen." She stood back, smoothing down her robes. "You need _rest_. No, not a word," she added, misunderstanding the look on his face. "Yes, I know you have lots of work to do, Mr. Steward. But it's not going to get any easier, and you'll be amazed at how better you will feel with just a little more sleep. Sometimes the answer is right in front of us the entire time." With a tired smile, she turned away to go tend to the other students. "Some food will be up in just a bit," she added. "You can stay here for the night."

 _It had always been there_ , Harry thought painfully as she walked away. He had always known.


	12. Under a weary life

"Under a weary life"

"Sirius?"

He'd heard Harry pacing outside his office, but then again, the boy had done that nearly every day since he'd returned home. Some days he'd come in.

Most days he wouldn't.

"Yes, Harry?" Sirius put his quill down, shifting back into his chair. The old wood creaked under the new weight. Outside, the slow burn of the August sun set on London. It'd soon be nighttime.

Harry shuffled nervously into his office. He was growing up quite well, Sirius thought to himself with a pang of pride. He'd never be tall, but Rhia and Severus had worked out a new regiment of potions that would likely counteract the damage Lily's dimwitted relatives had done. It'd been Rhia's idea, when it had become clear that his growth had stunted. Lily would have approved, if... well, she would have.

"My - my mother?" Harry never stuttered, but he'd started to go back to his old ways, refusing to meet Sirius' eyes. He stared at the boy, trying to figure out the puzzle that lay before him. Harry's voice was quiet. He almost had to strain to hear it.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, nervously.

"There's been no word," Sirius replied. For just a second, Harry's eyes flashed up, meeting his, but he wouldn't take his answers by force.

"I wish you would tell me what's wrong, Harry," he said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen. "I can't give you answers if I don't know what you're looking for."

Harry shook his head. "It's nothing," he mumbled.

"Very well. Dinner's in an hour, go see if you can help? Draco's coming with his parents," he added. Harry seemed to perk up at that. He sighed as the door swung closed. It'd been that way the entire summer, and now it was almost time to send him back to school. _Lily, I'm failing you_ , he thought with a pang. How could he send Harry back? Two years, now, of odd occurrences and murderous professors. Dumbledore truly knew how to pick them. And that odd happenstance in the Hospital Wing... was it a coincidence Harry had ended up there the same night they'd found the truth of the Chamber?

No, probably not. But with the Dark Lord gone, what could he prove? Who could he turn to? Fia had known nothing of what Harry's part in the whole debacle might have been - he'd had a hard enough time getting the truth of the diary out of her. "Morgana," he cursed under his breath. "If that diary was truly destroyed..."

He closed his eyes, shutting out the dark thoughts that whispered in his ears at night. Nothing he could do about it, he told himself grimly.

Nothing to do except to wait.

With a headache threatening, Sirius picked up the Prophet from where Rhia had left it for him on his desk. The front page was covered with the usual hogwash about the Ministry's exploits, but there was an interesting article on the bottom about some Hogwarts classes. A picture of Tracey Davis was included, and that Hermione girl Draco kept talking about, Sirius noticed. He remembered when the Davises had adopted their child - it'd been just a few years after the war, when any good news, no matter how small, was a cause for celebration. It was good to see she was doing so well at Hogwarts. Longbottom's child was also there. _Davis top of class;_ _Gryffindors lead in house points,_ the caption read. Folding it in half, he made a mental note to save it for Harry - and to keep it from Bellatrix's prying eyes.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione called happily down the train corridor with a wave and a laugh. "Come on! They're leaving soon!"

"Just a second!" Harry shouted back, losing her for an instant in the crowd pushing through. As usual, he'd had to come alone to the station. If he stood up just a tiny bit, he could just make out Sirius and Rhia... but then he lost them again.

"There you are, Harry," a quiet voice said below him.

"Hi, Fia," he replied awkwardly, the crowds trying to push them onto the train. He'd barely seen her all summer, both of them unwilling to answer why. Biting his lip, he tried to figure out what to say. She stared straight back at him, a dark haired whisp of a girl, her skin pale from spending the summer inside.

"Do you have somewhere - you should come sit with me," he added suddenly. Someone started shouting on the train platform, but the world seemed to pass them by for a second when Fia finally smiled just a bit.

"Ok," replied the girl.

"There you are, Harry," Hermione said behind him, panting. "Draco sent me to come get you - oh, hi Fia. Come on." She pulled him past the mess of students, Harry reaching back to grasp Fia's hand. They reached the cabin just as the train started to pull away from the station, the steam blocking him - them, he amended, as Fia pushed past him, her hand pressing against the window as she looked back - from seeing Sirius one last time.

"Did something happen out there?" Harry asked Draco curiously, as Hermione took her seat. "I heard some shouting..." His voice trailed off as he saw the long look Draco and Hermione gave each other.

"Nothing good, I expect," Draco said finally. "But cheer up. Start of the third year, no sign of any crazy teachers."

"Yet," Hermione said drily. "I'm sure -" But she was interrupted as Tracey swung open the door.

"There you all are!" The brunette witch said cheerfully. "Sorry for interrupting family time. Did you hear about the professor?"

"Oh, not again," Draco said with a groan. "Merlin save us, we'll all be dead soon! The coming is upon us -" Fia giggled a little from the corner at his dramatics, and he gave her a wink.

"Fia, don't encourage him," Harry said, rolling his eyes with a groan as he sat down next to the girl. "So, Tracey, who is it?"

"Worse than the coming," Tracey said with sniff. "One of the Potter family's old chums. Remus Lupin. No credentials whatsoever, of course, but why would a professor need any - it's almost like Dumbledore doesn't want any of us to actually know how to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts."

"It is a bit of a moot point," Draco pointed out. "At least for us, anyways."

Tracey eyed him. "Speak for yourself," she said. "The Davises were neutral during the war, everyone knows that. And I'd prefer to defend myself so I don't die like my parents."

Draco bit his lip, obviously trying not to blurt out the first thing on his mind. But Hermione beat him to the bunch. "I forgot you were adopted," she said, trying to be gentle. "I - um - do you know who your parents were?"

"No," Tracey said shortly, sitting down next to Harry. "And I - look, I don't want to," she said bluntly. "The Davises are my family now, and they've been good to me. They've been fantastic, actually. I'm their daughter. What my past is doesn't matter - to me or to them," she added pointedly.

"But isn't there a magical way to find that out?" Hermione said, pressing the point. Harry glanced at her in surprise. She seemed to desperately want to piss Tracey off.

"Sometimes. Sometimes not," Tracey said sharply.

"It's not that simple," Draco said, picking up what Tracey wouldn't say. "If the family accepts the child in every way, legally, that child is theirs's. Even if the family doesn't know -"

"Why wouldn't the family know?" Fia asked curiously, from where she was curled up in the corner.

"Um..." Draco blushed a tiny bit at his cousin's question. "Well, if the child wasn't the father's, but the father recognizes it... it was a way to keep the families together," he blurted out, making Tracey laugh. "Go ask your father. Or your mother. Anyways, the point is sometimes -"

"What if the family's not magical, though?" Hermione butted in.

"Hermione, are you asking about something in particular?" Tracey said bluntly.

"I - well," Hermione said slowly, biting her lip in nervousness, "I don't know. I mean, it was just something my mum said this summer -"

"Like, actually said, or just you don't like your parents and you wish you were special said?"

" _Tracey_ ," Harry hissed.

"What?" She looked over at him and shrugged. "It's not like she was delicate with me."

"No, it's okay Harry," Hermione said, reassuring him. "She's right. I'm sorry, that was a horrid way to ask." Tracey nodded, accepting the apology. "It's - we were at my mum's GP - muggle doctor," she amended. "And I overheard my mum talking to the doctor about how she couldn't have kids. How I was the only the bes - well, never mind that. But she said it specifically. It couldn't be misinterpreted."

Draco eyed her. "Well, the timeline would fit up," he said slowly. "A lot of children were orphaned during the war - Merlin, I've heard Neville Longbottom was adopted, though that's more about how sorry a wizard he is -"

All of a sudden, a cold air seemed to fly through the train like a whip, silencing them all.

"I -" Draco struggled, but the words wouldn't come out. "I don't..."

Hermione let a puff of air escape her lips, staring at the small cloud in shock. She looked up at Harry, about to say something, but -

The screams came suddenly. A child, begging for food. Hunger. A sharp, piercing hunger that tore through his stomach. Darkness - everything, closing in, until the world itself seemed to be extinguished... A man's voice, yelling in the distance. Nothing was good enough, nothing... Death, that sweet merciful lady, ripping through his body and tearing him from the child...

He was caught in a limbo, a strange sort of thing, between worlds. Red hair flashed before his eyes; red hair and green lights, before the darkness came again.

And he lay in the dirt, waiting. The cold upon him, so cold, but it was nothing in the face of his magic...

"-rry. _Harry_. Oh Merlin, please, what did they do..." Above him, someone screamed.

Harry blinked. He wasn't on the forest ground anymore, but lying on the hard tiles of the carriage.

"Tracey?" he mumbled, looking up at the girl talking next to - some adult. He couldn't see.

"Quiet - quiet please," the voice commanded outside. "Back to your cabins, all of you. Mr. Potter - Mr. Potter, are you quite all right?"

The familiar voice of Charles Potter echoed across the train. "I _didn't_ faint and scream like a girl," he sniggered outside, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Are you quite sure you're all right?" the voice demanded. "Even the most hardened wizards - at the memory of facing down He Who Shall Not Be Named -"

"I'm not some pansy," Charles scoffed. "Save it for those stupid Slytherins. Come on, Ron." The hallway quieted quickly as they left.

Harry eyed the window. Were they in Scotland yet? It looked like Scotland. The clouds seemed very Scottish...

"Yes - Miss?"

"Davis, Tracey Davis," Tracey said breathlessly. "Please, sir, I think you ought to take a look at them -"

The adult - the new professor, it seemed - shuffled in next to Harry's head. He eyed him from the ceiling. Or from where he was standing, Harry amended. He was quite tall. Or short. The world seemed to still be spinning.

"Just give them some chocolate," the teacher said after a pause. "Yes, some - ah, some chocolate will do -"

" _Chocolate?_ " Tracey asked incredulously. "He went unconscious - she was near unconscious - don't you want to see that they're not _dead_ or worse?"

"Yes, I'm sure they'll be fine," the professor said defensively. "Please stop bothering me with questions. I must attend to the conductor."

And with that, the door shut with a decisive snap.

"Well," Tracey said with a huff. " _Chocolate_. Let alone mind Dementors loose on a train with children - and he didn't even check to see if you were alright. What do you have to do, Harry, die?" she asked, nudging him with a toe.

"Probsably," Harry said with a yawn.

"Oh, good. Can't even speak proper English." Tracey's voice lowered to a worried tone. "Hermione...?"

"What happened?" the witch asked nervously above him. "I..."

"Dementors," Draco replied angrily. He'd moved, Harry noted. He was standing with Fia. _Fia_. Sirius would kill him if...

"She's fine, Harry," Draco reassured him. "You two were worse. Tracey went white - Hermione screamed, and you - you fell unconscious..."

"What were dementors doing here?" Tracey asked above him. "One of them said... but it can't be. He's awful. He was in the most secure ward."

"I heard it too," Draco said quietly. "I can't imagine... my aunt disowned him. It's not good if it's - Fia, it'll be fine," he added, to something Harry didn't hear. "We're at Hogwarts. Rodolphus Lestrange - they'll catch him. Soon. If it's even true..."

"I'm going to get Harry and Hermione some water," Tracey cut in. "Lock the door 'til I get back, will you?"

* * *

Harry lay in bed as his clock went off, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the roll of the waves outside his window. Maybe. Or not. There was still a pounding in his head.

"Harry!" Draco banged on his door. "Come on! It's almost time for breakfast."

"Coming," Harry whispered, not sure if the other Slytherin heard him or not.

Wordlessly, he rolled out of bed, pulling on his robe from where he'd left it the night before. His hair was fine. Wand, bag. Ready.

He opened the door.

"Mis-ter Ste-ward," Professor Snape said in his clipped tones, as he nearly walked smack into his Head of House. "I'm glad you've decided to grace the land of the living."

Blinking, he looked up at his professor.

"Yes, thank you for bringing this to my attention, Draco," Professor Snape said slowly, tilting Harry's head back to examine him. "You said he hit his head?"

"Yes," Draco answered, his voice quiet in the distance. "When the cold came -"

Harry blinked, his eyes starting to burn. The world wouldn't stop spinning...

"Very well. Make sure he gets these," Severus instructed, letting Harry's face fall from his grasp. "Harry," he said gently. "Come to my classrooms after class today. I'll have some more potions for you then... chocolate, indeed," he sniffed. "Is Miss Granger in her room as well?"

"Yes, she's back this way. She hasn't gotten up either," someone - Tracey - said in the back of the hallway.

"Not surprising. Dementors are particularly noted for their ability to suck the will to live from their victims," Severus said drily.

"Harry - Harry, come on," Draco said, nudging him as the others left for the girls' side. "You can take these once you get some food in you. Severus said you'd feel better."

Hermione and Tracey joined them as they walked out of the common room. Hermione was a mess, Harry noted, as his head swam. Slowly, he shuffled towards the Great Hall. Some of the lights were up already. The morning was particularly bright.

"Here, Harry," Draco said nervously as he offered him some juice. "Just drink some and you'll feel better -"

And Harry did feel better as they walked out of the Great Hall and up the stairs. "Did we have breakfast already?" he asked Draco finally in confusion, looking at the crowd around them. That was impossible though, the morning had been so dark and heavy, like a lead weight hanging around his neck.

"You weren't feeling well," Draco answered slowly, eying him. "Here," he said absentmindedly, and pointed his wand at Harry's head. A cool wave of air washed over him, and Harry felt better almost immediately.

"Watch it, idiot," one of the Gryffindors said with a laugh, pushing past them. Harry just eyed them. They'd reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, and yet again, it was with the Gryffindors.

"Some things never change," he muttered to Draco, but Draco wasn't listening to them.

"Are you feeling better?" Draco asked him cautiously under his breath. He seemed worried. "I mean, you really didn't seem so well this morning..."

"Yeah," Harry said absentmindedly, running his hand through his hair. "I think I do, actually... it's weird, the whole morning was a blur..."

" - don't worry, Uncle Remus is gonna be awesome." The loud, unwelcome voice of Charles Potter echoed through the hallway, and Harry groaned as he felt the headache threaten to return. "He's the best. He used to teach me stuff all the time as a kid -"

"Oh, like what?" Tweedle Dum asked next to him.

"All sorts of stuff," Charles scoffed. " _Advanced_ magic. And -" The Gryffindors followed them into the classroom, talking loudly behind the two and hollering.

"Well, some things really do never change," Draco said shortly. "Here, come on. We can sit in the back. Study group after dinner?"

"Study group after dinner," Harry repeated, taking another breath of air. But somehow it didn't feel quite so bad.

Even with the idiots this year.

* * *

"Remus Lupin?" James Potter demanded as he stormed into his uncle's office. "Remus _Lupin_? Quirrell and Lockhart was bad enough - but this? What was Dumbledore thinking?"

His uncle glanced up from his papers with a scowl. "Stop yelling."

But James didn't listen. "The nerve of that man -" he seethed. "It's absolute ludicrousness. Sheer absurdity -"

"Where did you learn so many words," Charlus Potter muttered under his breath, kneading the side of his head as if to ward off the usual headache that inevitably came with dealing with his idiotic nephew.

"How dare he?" James demanded, pausing in the middle of the office. "Charles should be taught by only the best, and he's had nothing but these - these _lunatics_. How can you just sit there?" he added.

"I was under the impression Remus Lupin was your friend," Charlus said coldly, doing his best to ignore his nephew's tantrum.

" _Friend_ ," James emphasized. "Not - not... well, it's one thing to be friends with that sort of thing," he said defensively. "It's another to have him around my kid. I never - I mean, I've protected Charles from that sort of thing all his life."

"As you protected your other child?" Charlus said coldly.

"It was a squib, it wasn't the same," James said immediately. "Charles is -

"Charles was very excited when I told him Lupin would be his teacher for the school year," Charlus said, leaning back in his chair. Outside, the skies threatened rain on the Potter estates. His estates.

"You _knew_?" James said in shock, stopping his pacing to gape at his uncle. "But -"

"I'm a Trustee, of course I knew," Charlus pointed out, pursing his lips. "Dumbledore believed it would prove a beneficial experience. And I am inclined to agree, given his past - "

"His past _what_?" James asked incredulously. "Absolutely no one would think his past choices have been proper - Merlin's beard, Charles nearly died his first year -"

"Nearly is not the same thing as did," Charlus replied coolly. "It was good practical -"

"Practical?" James whispered. " _Practical_? Is that what this is about, giving Charles _practical_ experience in -"

"Calm yourself down," Charlus seethed, standing at last. His nephew cowed, like always, but didn't quite back down. "You're being foolish. Charles is old enough - "

"He's thirteen," James said, holding his hands out in shock. "He needs -"

"He needs practical experience. No, that's quite enough," Charlus added, as James opened his mouth. "I think you've said your bit. Now leave the planning to me."

James threw one last glare his way, but left with a huff.

Charlus rolled his eyes. Did his nephew have to always make such a scene?


	13. But that the dread

"But that the dread"

"Fia?" Harry knocked on the door softly. He felt a little silly. It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong - they were allowed in the girls' dorms - but he'd never been down this way by Fia's year. He winced. Maybe the fact he'd never visited her was what was really bugging him.

He was about to knock again when a familiar redhead opened the door. "Come in," Ginny said with a conspiratorial grin.

"I -" Harry got flustered but came in anyways. "What are you doing here?" he asked in confusion.

"Found another way in," Ginny said shrugging, and plopped on the bed where Fia was curled up with a book. The curtains in her room were closed, letting the fire light the space with a warm glow.

"Professor Snape will know you're here," he warned her. "We're not allowed to have visitors."

"Says who?" Fia mumbled from behind her book. "Has any professor ever told you you aren't allowed to have visitors? There's just rules about curfew."

Ginny looked at her friend and tried to muffle a laugh before turning back to Harry. "Anyways, Professor Snape knows. Who do you think told me how to get in?"

Harry pulled out the desk chair to sit, feeling a little left out suddenly. Usually Fia would be the first to run to him when she found something new. "So what do you think of the new professor?" he asked awkwardly after a brief pause.

"Lupin?" Ginny said with a scowl. "Potter won't shut up about how he's his dad's best friend. I don't know." She picked at the stitching on the quilt. "He's nicer than Lockhart, but honestly all he does is pull out cool animals. There's nothing actually about theory or the magic behind -" Fia shot her a look. "I don't know," Ginny said, a bit more subdued. "He doesn't seem all that... I don't know. Like when you see McGonagall and Snape, it's just so different."

Harry looked at them curiously. Was he jealous? No, not quite. Jealous wasn't the right word. Interested? Intrigued? "Tom used to say something similar to me," he ventured, absolutely aware in that moment how his words might land him in Azkaban. Or worse.

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Fia finally lowered her book, sharing a sideways glance with Ginny.

"But you only had the diary that afternoon..." Fia said quietly, her voice filled with curiosity.

"I -" Harry looked between the two of them, huddled up on the bed together as if - well, as if hiding from the world. Fia still looked so nerve wracked every day, but she relaxed here, with them. With Ginny. "It was something similar... My first year." Somehow he didn't think telling the two he had a voice in his own head would be wise. It wasn't even something he'd told his own mother. Or Sirius. Not now - not now with that knowledge of who that voice really was.

"You can trust Ginny," Fia said, misinterpreting his stare. "She has as much to lose as we do."

"Gee, thanks," Ginny muttered to Fia.

"You know what I mean," Fia said, pushing her teasingly. "It's a little late to tell the truth now."

"True," Ginny said thoughtfully. "I don't think even Mum would forgive me if she found out I'd lied about talking to the Dark Lord -"

"Wait, _you knew who he was_?" Harry demanded.

"... Um, you didn't?" Fia looked at him blankly. "I mean, it's not like we're stupid enough to talk to some random book without knowing who's behind it."

"Well, I don't know," replied Harry defensively. "He went by Tom. It didn't exactly scream 'Dark Lord'. How'd you even figure that out?"

"To be fair, we didn't find out until the winter," Ginny cut in.

"Eh -"

"Well, late fall," she amended. "I mean, he didn't hide it exactly at the beginning. He showed us how to get down there in October. And who else could have been the Heir?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, thought better of it, and changed tactics. "So... you didn't mind?" he asked, looking at the Gryffindor curiously. "I mean, you are..." he motioned with his hand towards her crimson and gold lined robe, thrown without a thought on the floor.

The two girls shared another look.

"I - um..." Ginny looked down at the quilt again. "I mean, I've grown up with Charles and Ron," she said with a frown. "I don't want him dead," she added defensively. "He's not evil. But he's not good either. And Tom was nice."

Fia closed her book and set it to the side. "He didn't ask us to do anything," she said cautiously. "And he didn't show us a lot of the advanced stuff. When we went down there, he wouldn't call out the basilisk or show us where some of Slytherin's rooms are hidden." Ginny nodded, still not looking up. "He wasn't - I mean, I guess he was protecting us. It felt like that, anyways. All he did was show us a lot of the castle. What happened after wasn't his fault."

"Yeah," Ginny said quietly. "That wasn't him, that was Lockhart. And they didn't blame him at all. And they never did anything about what Lockhart was doing -"

"I thought the Ministry took him to St. Mungo's?" Harry interrupted.

"Only for the basilisk," Ginny muttered darkly under her breath.

Fia looked at her friend curiously.

"Whatever." Ginny flicked something off the quilt. "Dumbledore still thought he'd be fine as a teacher. Tom didn't. So there. Besides, Charles and Ron this summer -" she went quiet. "Anyways -"

"Wait, what did Charles and Ron do this summer?" Fia cut in, interrupting Ginny.

The redhead looked away towards the fire. "It wasn't anything important," she said finally. "They're just stupid. Besides, they don't even notice I'm never in the common room."

"... okay." Fia said slowly, and then changed the subject abruptly. "Harry, have you gone back to the chamber since then?" Her voice was hopeful, the question drawn out and cautious. For the first time in a while, she met his eyes. "I - I mean, Ginny said you left through a different passage. Maybe...?"

"No," Harry said, a wave of guilt washing over him as he saw her face fall. "It's - I'm sorry," he said honestly. "My memory of that night still isn't good. I think I opened - I mean, someone found me in the dorm, but I don't even know where, or who it was. I - when he left the diary, or whatever it was that happened, it knocked me out."

Ginny started to stand, her movements cautious. "I'm sorry," she told Fia, apologizing. "I don't want to interrupt, but I have to get back upstairs. Otherwise I'll miss curfew, and they'll get suspicious if they catch me."

"Back to being the perfect Gryffindor," Fia teased her, but her heart didn't seem in it. "See you in class then."

"See you," Ginny grinned back, grabbing her robe. "Here, after you," she told Harry absentmindedly.

"I can walk you upstairs," Harry told her, as they left Fia's room and ducked out of the corridor. Ginny paused from where she was about to turn into one of the darker hallways, but Harry cut off her protests. "Just so you don't run into any trouble. It's a long way to go."

"I - okay," Ginny said, sounding a little surprised. "Thank you."

"No worries," Harry said. "Oh, uh, I don't know which way you came in..."

"Oh, right," she said with a giggle. "Sorry, it's not that big of a secret. I think. Fia says Snape knows when someone comes in anyways, so I guess it doesn't really matter. Here we go." She lead him through one of the portrait openings and out into one of the dungeon hallways.

"What's it like being a third year?" Ginny asked nervously as they walked up the stairs out of the dungeons. There was silence in the corridors. Most students were already in their dormitories, though just to be safe, they took the back way up. "I heard about some of the electives - though I think Ron and Charles just picked the easiest ones, so that's not super helpful."

"The easiest?" Harry said in surprise. "I guess there's some easier ones, though it really just depends what you want to go in to. Si - I thought Arithmacy would be helpful -"

"It's ok, I know you live with the Blacks," Ginny reassured him.

"Oh." Harry paused in the hallway.

"Don't worry," she told him, looking back over her shoulder when he stopped. "There wasn't much point in keeping secrets between us. If Fia gets caught, so do I."

"Except you're not from a Dark family," Harry pointed out with a frown. "It's not quite the same thing. You'll get - they'll forgive you. Somehow. She's not going to get that same luxury. She didn't get that same luxury." The old castle creaked in the night, making him jumpy, but he did his best to ignore it. Suddenly he missed the comfort of the dungeons, and it made him realize how out in the open he was right then.

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but then just shrugged. "I'm sure they will. But I'll still be locked up for being friends with her," she pointed out. "I suppose it's a difference, being locked up in Azkaban and being locked in the Potter mansion, but it's still a prison. You're right, though. And I'm sorry." Her voice was more subdued now. "No one will find out about it from me."

"The Potter mansion?" The confusion in his voice was clear. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Oh. That." Ginny seemed to sink a little into the floor. "It's my mum. And Dumbledore. They seem to think it's some - ugh. They think I rescued him last year, and it's become this whole thing."

"But you're twelve...?"

Ginny scoffed. "True love. Or something. I don't know, at least I'm not getting kidnapped. They're going to wait until I'm older. Mum and that horrid Potter lady are already planning the wedding."

Harry shook his head. "No, not that. Or - I don't know. I'm confused. Why - what, is this a thing? Arranged marriages?"

Ginny stared at him for a second. "Something like that..." she started, trying to find the right words. "It's... um, it's like dowries. Or actually - no, it's breeding, basically. We're both from good Light families. Good affinities. I don't know. It happens, sometimes. Some of the older - well, the ones that care about that sort of thing still, those families still practice it. Not that it really works. You've never heard of it?" she asked.

"Well, what does it have to do with me?" Harry asked defensively.

"Well, I don't know," Ginny replied, her voice short. "I suppose it doesn't, since you're not being sold off."

"I'm -" Harry stopped himself. "Is - is it certain?" he asked, trying a different tact.

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. They didn't make me sign anything. Besides, they used to just flat out kidnap the girls away, so I'm lucky," she said with a dry laugh. "I think I had a great aunt somewhere who got locked in her room until she agreed."

"You've got time," Harry told her, trying to sound confident, as he started to walk again. "You -"

"Shh," Ginny said suddenly, and pulled him back into an alcove around the corner.

Harry was about to respond when he heard the voices. He raised an eyebrow questioningly at Ginny.

"My twin brothers," she mouthed back.

And it was true, they did sound like twins. Their voices echoed down the hallways, making it hard to figure out where they came from, but it didn't seem too close. Harry leaned back against the wall, trying to listen.

"- it's the key to everything!" One of the twins groused. "If you hadn't lost it -"

"Me!" the second one said in shock. "You're the one who got us caught. If Filch hadn't heard you, he would have filched it."

"It was your idea."

"And your foot."

"Your pigheaded brain."

"Fine, fine, let's just find it fast," the second said at last. "The sooner we do, the sooner we find out where Ginny's been sneaking off to every night..."

Harry lost track of the conversation when he saw Ginny go white. Slowly, their voices died off in the distance.

"I thought you said they didn't notice you were gone?" Harry asked blankly.

"I thought they hadn't..." Ginny said, still in shock. She shook herself. "I - let me go," she told him. "Go back to the dungeon. I need to figure out what they're up too..."

"No, go back to Gryffindor," Harry told her, trying not to sound too sharp. "I know you mean well, but if you get caught, it's on Fia. I don't want her hurt."

"I know," Ginny said, biting her lip. "But she - please just make sure she's ok?" she asked him suddenly.

"I - I will," Harry promised, and then cleared his throat. "I promise. We'll find out what they're up to soon enough."

"Yeah," Ginny said, looking like she was about to say something else. But then she walked off.

Harry watched her leave until she turned a corner and went out of sight. He frowned. Yes, he could just go back to the dungeons. And back to Fia, who hadn't... who'd stayed nearly locked in her room all summer, and who'd blanched at the sight of the train. Who, he'd finally noticed, always went straight back to the dormitories after dinner and never left the pack of second years. Was it really such a mystery why Snape had told Ginny how to visit the Slytherin dorms at night?

He said the incantation wordlessly this time, feeling the cold shiver tingle down his back as he rendered himself invisible. He hadn't really used it since his first year, but - but somehow, he hadn't lost his touch. Well, he amended, looking at his hand, the air spotty where skin should have been visible, he did need some practice.

Silently, he started to trot off in the direction he'd last heard the twins. It didn't take long to find them, though it didn't hurt that he had some hints. Namely, that Filch's office was just down the hall. They were being sneaky, but not sneaky enough - one lone redhead stood guard outside the door, while the other could be heard inside, ruffling around. Harry nearly ducked behind the corner, but then remembered why he'd learned this charm in the first place. He wasn't quiet enough though, it seemed.

"Quick, George, someone's coming!" the twin outside the door said with a start.

"I haven't got the map," the other complained from the office.

"Forget about the map, we'll find it another time. Filch hasn't got a clue about it anyways," he whispered back. Harry froze, but when the other twin came out of the office, they shot down the opposite end of the hallway towards the staircases.

With a relieved sigh, Harry ducked inside the office. The door wasn't locked, not that it really would have mattered.

So. A map. Well, that'd explain why it'd help find Ginny. But where to look... he surveyed the office. It was a disaster zone of epic proportions. Boxes lay strewn about in every which corner, files open and parchment balled up in crumples. In the center was an old-fashioned desk. Harry had a vague memory of seeing one in school, but he quickly shot down the memory.

"Accio map," he said, curious at what might come. He wasn't surprised when nothing happened - Tom had always drilled into him the importance of understanding the magic, that words weren't just enough.

Harry bit his lip. Where to start? Curious, he took a peek at one of the open files. They were disciplinary records of older students it looked like, dating all the way back from decades before. Photos were attached to some. Piles and piles of boxes - all for student discipline? Harry shook his head, trying to focus himself. He'd come here for a reason. And...

What had they said? For once, he tried to reason through it. A map. Presumably, one that could show them - but a normal map wouldn't help them find Ginny. Something that tracked students... He'd seen something similar at wizarding houses, but they only ever tracked families. But it'd have to track every student. Unless they'd made it last year, Ginny wouldn't have been keyed in for a specific map. And why make one for only specific students? One that you'd lose to Filch...

 _Found Items_. It couldn't be that easy, could it? The drawer sat in front of him, unlocked. He opened it with a rattle.

But there were only a few pieces and bits in there, odd items of a weird sort. Nothing that...

His eyes fell upon the only piece of paper in the drawer. Sometimes, if it was the only answer left, it was the answer.

Harry picked up the parchment. Nothing was on it, but he felt an odd buzz as the parchment touched his hand. Something Filch didn't have a clue about. Well, there was definitely magic in it.

Pocketing it, he looked around the room one last time, and started off towards the safety of the dungeons to investigate. As he made his way down the stairs, the clock struck ten, signaling the curfew. It didn't matter much - third years weren't allowed out anyways, and he was risking at least a month's worth of detention if he got caught out. But noise carried far over the silence of the castle, and he was able to avoid the patrol that was out already. Whomever was on it made quite a bit of noise - had they caught a student? Thankfully it took them up to one of the higher floors. By the time he made it down to the dungeons he was panting, but at least he'd be safe there. No one ever patrolled the dungeons.

Soon enough he found himself slipping back into the common room. Most of the students were in bed already, though he didn't let the charm slip. By the time he got back to his room, it was close to eleven. He tossed his robe on his desk, letting the charm fade away, and opened the parchment with trembling hands. And then - he stopped himself. Normally Tom would have helped him with this sort of thing, a thought he banished from his head as soon as he had it. With a frown, he took a look at the parchment, and summoned the mirror to his hand.

"Sirius," he said blankly, not expecting Sirius to pick up. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even used -

"Harry." Sirius Black greeted him warmly. It looked like he was in the library. Behind him, the fire was bursting with life. "This is a pleasant surprise. Though in my day, students were supposed to be in bed by -" he checked his watch with a grin "- eleven, I believe."

Harry smiled back despite himself. "Yeah, I - um - I needed to speak with you about something I found... but I don't want to interrupt if you're doing something important," he added, nervous.

"No, no, go ahead," Sirius assured him. "I'm just doing some late-night research. Not finding anything can certainly wait."

"Oh -" Hope bubbled up in his chest. "Was there something new - something new about my mother...?" The thoughts swung rapidly in his head. Maybe she'd just been out of range of the mirrors -

"I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius said gently. "There's been no word. But I have been searching every day. We were going to send Bellatrix - but unfortunately, with - well, I'm sure you've heard the news by now - with her husband's escape, she's under watch. All of us are."

"Oh. Yeah, I understand," Harry said in subdued disappointment.

"But you had something to ask me?" Sirius gently prodded him.

"Oh. Yes. I, um, I, uh, I found -"

"Found?" Sirius tried to conceal his grin.

"This - um, well, I think it's a map." Harry bit his lip, trying to find the words to describe it. "Of Hogwarts, I think. Here, actually, why don't you just take a look at it." He held up the parchment. "I think there's some sort of magic in it... Well," he amended hastily, trying not to get into the details of how and why he thought there was something hidden in the parchment. "I think it's magical, but I don't know how to get it to work. Can you help?"

Sirius went a little quiet suddenly, the smile slipping ever so slightly from his face. "Point your wand at it."

Harry did as instructed, propping the mirror up on his desk so that Sirius could see him. "It doesn't -" but a scrawl started to appear, shutting him up. Like the diary, the ink appeared slowly, blotting out the pages as the words began to form.

 _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs_

 _Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

 _are proud to present_

 _THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

He showed it to Sirius hesitatingly. The older wizard leaned back in his armchair for a moment, and paused before answering.

"Point at it with your wand, and tell it 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'."

Harry frowned. "How...?" But he shook his head and repeated the words Sirius had instructed.

The parchment seemed to leap out of his hands and grow a life of its own. It bloomed open, the ink spreading rapidly across the pages, the parchment opening until all of a sudden Harry had a working, fully grown map of the entire castle spread out across the table. Harry lifted up a page with hesitation. Two names with - footsteps, Harry realized - ran across the ground floor of Hogwarts. With growing apprehension, he scanned the other pages rapidly. It was able to track every student in the castle...

"It doesn't have the dungeons plotted," Harry noticed suddenly, picking up one of the lower sheaves where the Slytherin dormitories should have been. In Hufflepuff, students seemed to be clustered in the common room.

"No, they never figured out how to do that," Sirius said quietly. "To create magic like that, you need to understand the details. This map only reflects its creators' knowledge. That is, James Potter's knowledge."

Harry's eyes flashed up. "Potter's dad?" he asked, his voice wavering a bit. "You used to be in Gryffindor..."

"Yes," Sirius admitted, his gaze steady. "Until fifth year. I'm not trying to hide it," he added abruptly. "It's just not a period of my life I enjoy discussing."

Harry took a breath. "So Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs are...?"

"Prongs was James Potter's nickname in school," Sirius answered, turning thoughtful. "Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew. I haven't heard anything about him in years - unpleasant little fellow, used to do whatever Potter said. Moony is Remus Lupin -"

"The new professor?" Harry asked. "But the names -"

"We learned how to become animagi. Or at least, they did," he amended. "I did as well. Potter's form is a stag. Pettigrew is a rat. It was to help Lupin at the time. He's a werewolf -"

" _What_?" Harry stood there in shock, the map forgotten. "Dumbledore hired a werewolf -"

"Harry, calm down," Sirius said with a frown. "He's a werewolf. It's a treatable condition, if he takes the correct potions. And despite whatever happened between us, Lupin never failed to take the uttermost precaution when it came to the safety of those around him."

Harry felt a large pit in his stomach at the subtle disappointment in Sirius' tone. "But he isn't even a good teach-"

"Well," Sirius interrupted, settling back into his armchair. "That is another thing altogether. I have to say, Lupin never did have a particular aptitude for Defense when we were in school together. It surprises me that Dumbledore would pick him." He frowned. "Harry, Dumbledore has a larger game in mind here. One that doesn't involve you, and one you should keep out of."

"Why?" Harry asked, troubled. "What's the point? Every year, the defense teacher seems to get worse - "

"Harry, think for a moment." Sirius looked at him. "What did every student say after the incident your first year?"

"That Charles Potter saved the school," Harry said promptly. "Oh," he realized suddenly, feeling very foolish. "They said the same last year, too..."

"I can assure you that all of England was whispering about Charles Potter's exploits well before he ever left the Hospital Wing," Sirius said sharply. "And as much gossip as Hogwarts encourages, there was far too much detail in those rumors."

"And if Charles Potter defeats a werewolf..."

"Perhaps," Sirius shrugged. "It's a little hard to tell if Dumbledore actually has a plan when it comes to these things, or if he simply sets it up and lets the pieces fall where they will. I sincerely doubt that he expected Lockhart would turn out to be a psychopath willing to unleash a Basilisk on the school just to write a book. Nevertheless, it is more than strange to have one such incident, let alone two. As tumultuous as my time at Hogwarts was, nothing like that ever -"

"Yes, but you were a Death Eater. It's not like you were ever going to get attacked." Harry said, a little more sharply than he intended.

Sirius didn't speak for a moment. "I didn't join until after I left school, actually." He paused again. "I've never hidden that from you, Harry," he said at last. "And I hope you never felt I did." And yes, Harry remembered those moment as a child where he'd traced those black lines on Sirius' arm, as Sirius picked him up and swung him around... and all those times where Sirius had made a point to hide that skull in public, hiding from all those people watching them.

Harry felt the uncomfortable pit growing once more in his stomach. "No," he replied quietly. "But it'd have been nice if we could have just been normal. If none of this ever - if I could just be at home with mum, and not worrying about some stupid werewolf plot - "

"What happened to your mother isn't her fault," Sirius reminded him gently. "And she has always tried to protect you -"

"Not doing a great job at that, is she?"

" _Harry_."

"I'm tired," he said, aware of how ungrateful he sounded. "I should go to bed."

"Yes, that's probably a good idea," Sirius said at last. "We'll talk soon."

And Harry hated him in that moment for being so calm - for not being angry, for not telling Harry was a terrible son he was.


	14. Of something after death

"Of something after death"

Draco pulled out his homework as he tried to explain the situation better to Hermione. "Well, they knew he wasn't in the common room by then, but they didn't know if he'd grabbed one of the students." Just then, Harry staggered into the classroom and sat down near Tracey. He looked like he hadn't had any sleep, Draco noted, but Hermione quickly took his attention away from Harry.

"I don't understand," Hermione said, arranging her desk. "How do they not know who was in the common room? They couldn't do a head count? Or have some sort of - I don't know, a magical alarm system?"

"Apparently not," Tracey cut in. "I heard they didn't even let them get back to bed until 2 am -"

"What happened?" Harry asked sleepily.

But Pansy was the one to cut in, eager to tell the story. "Didn't you _hear_? Rodolphus Lestrange tried to break into the Gryffindor dormitories last night," she whispered, her voice full of shock and just a touch of glee.

"They had to evacuate the dormitory," Tracey said quietly, turning to Harry. That seemed to wake him up. "They weren't even sure that he wasn't in the castle 'til this morning."

"Are the Gryffindors all right?" Harry asked, a little sharply. "Did they find all of them?"

"Well, that's what I was telling Hermione when you came in," Draco tried to explain to him. "They weren't able to do a full head count until 2 am -"

"Which is awful," Hermione whispered. "If one of them had been hurt - or worse -"

"But no one was," Tracey reminded her.

"This time -"

"The real question is," Pansy cut in, "what was he doing, trying to get into the Gryffindor dorms anyways?"

"It's not that big of a secret," Tracey said, yawning. "Remember?" She looked at Hermione, and then back to Harry, who also looked confused. "The trial? They had a write up on it when he escaped -"

Draco frowned. "They wouldn't have heard about it," he reminded Tracey. "Remember, Hermione grew up in the muggle world -"

"Yeah, I'm just surprised Harry hadn't," Tracey confessed. "It was such a huge deal. He tried to kill Frank Longbottom," she explained to Harry and Hermione. "He's the chief auror -"

"Yeah, I know who he is," Harry said, finally speaking. "But what does that have to do with - oh. You mean Neville?"

Tracey shrugged. "It'd make sense. I heard he really had it out for the Longbottoms, though no one ever knew why - Draco, did your aunt -"

"No," Draco said sharply, cutting her off before she could say anything further. Not that he actually knew anything. Lestrange was never to be mentioned in the Black or Malfoy households.

"I'll explain later," he told Hermione abruptly in response to her questioning look. The Gryffindors were starting to filter in to the Transfiguration classroom, looking none too happy in the early morning.

"Still, I'm not sure why he'd want to kill Longbottom's son now," Tracey said thoughtfully. "I heard he's not even that great at magic. He probably wanted to go for Potter -"

"Shh," Hermione said angrily. Tracey blinked, and the girl gestured towards the Gryffindors. Draco looked up and accidentally met Longbottom's eyes; the Gryffindor flushed red and looked down at the ground.

Hermione looked over at Longbottom too. "That wasn't necessary," she told Tracey crossly. "He's not too bad -"

The doors to the classroom opened with a creak. Silence spread like a wave as McGonagall made her way wordlessly through the desks to reach the front of the room. She eyed them all with an unreadable glint in her eye. For once, no one really made a sound as they got their homework out of their bags.

Draco couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something wrong in the air.

* * *

"Ginny!" Ron yelled at her from across the room amongst the noise of Gryffindor common room. "Oi, Gin-"

"I'm coming, Ron," Ginny threw back at him over her shoulder, trying to at least put a smile on her face. It'd been a week since Harry had slipped her the message in the library about finding some stupid map - how, she didn't know - but she still hadn't had a chance to get out of Gryffindor. She was bursting with anxiety since then, cooped up like some animal in the tower. Most Gryffindors had refused to leave except when necessary. Fia looked alright in class, but they never had a chance to talk except in Potions.

"Yes?" She said, biting back the cutting edge in her voice as she marched over to her brother.

"Oh, hey Ginny," Charles Potter said, flashing a smile at her. The lout was idiotic enough to think she still avoided him because she had some sort of crush.

"Mum had something she wanted me to give you." Ron asked, craning his head up instead of actually standing to talk to her.

"Oh," Ginny said in surprise. "What was it?"

"I dunno, it was in the care package this morning."

"Where's that?" Ginny asked with a small sigh.

"Upstairs. It's on my trunk, you can just grab it."

Ginny could have strangled her brother in frustration. "Couldn't you just go get it?" she asked, trying to reason with him. "It's a little weird, going into the guys' dormitory."

"Merlin, Gin, don't you see we're busy?" Ron said, turning away from her. "Just go grab the package." He moved his chess piece. "There. Checkmate!" he cried triumphantly.

"Only because your sister was distracting us," Charles replied petulantly, his charm disappearing as fast as it came. "Come on. I wanna study up on Defense so I'm prepared the next time that Death Eater breaks in. Not like Longbottom's going to be much help."

Ginny rolled her eyes as the two boys broke open their textbooks - the first time this year, likely, she thought sourly. _As if Lestrange could be defeated by some idiotic spell in a third year textbook_. But the two didn't notice her sudden change in demeanor, and soon got distracted by talk of the last Quidditch match anyways. She turned around towards the boy's staircase. Might as well see what the fuss was about the package. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realize she'd walked into Longbottom.

"Hi, Ginny," he said quietly, his face a little red. "I can walk you upstairs, if you want," he offered slowly. "I know which trunk is Ron's."

She would have made a snide comment about her brother if she wasn't aware of the need to keep her thoughts secret. "Thanks," she replied with a sigh. "I appreciate that."

"Yeah, no worries," he mumbled. "I was going to head to bed anyways."

"Hey," she said, cringing a little. "You shouldn't listen to them -"

"Them, or everyone?" Neville shrugged awkwardly as they went up the stairs. "Don't worry, my dad thinks the same."

"I'm sure he doesn't..." But her tone was halfhearted, and she knew it. Even amongst Light families the only Longbottom son was a bit of a joke. "It'll get better," she told him as they paused on the landing of the third years' dorm, more determined this time. "You'll see. Lots of wizards get better later on - hell, I heard Merlin failed a few classes his first year -"

"It's okay, Ginny. Seriously. Here, come on." He opened the door, sounding way too resigned. "Ron's trunk is over there." Though Ginny could have guessed that - Ron's things were strewn all over the floor, just like at home.

Frowning, she walked over to his bed, forgetting all about Longbottom for a second. She cautiously picked up one of the robes that'd been left on top of the trunk and regretted it. _Didn't Ron use the laundry?_

Finally, she found the package. It'd already been ripped apart, and the homemade sweets their mum had sent was scattered across the bed. But Ginny suddenly smiled when she saw an untouched box with her name on it in her mum's loopy script. Something could -

They were oranges. Small, bright oranges - really, they smelled quite nice, but that wasn't the _point_. Ginny didn't even read the note. It was the same each time, and anyways, who needed it written out why she only got oranges. At least they'd moved on from Madame Berry's Magically Slimming whatever they were. Merlin. She'd puked every time.

She scowled as she angrily walked out of the boys' room, only to nearly get hit by the door as Seamus and Dean walked in. "Hey, Gin," Seamus told her, with a smirking leer that made her want to pull a blanket over herself. Instead she settled for trying not to run to her room, and instead felt like a fucking coward for not saying anything at all.

* * *

Harry frowned as he paced around the hallways leading out of the common room again. If only he knew who had found him and taken him to Madame Pomfrey... but it'd raise too many questions now to go an ask her. _Why didn't I just ask her then? Idiot_...

He rubbed the side of his head, feeling a headache coming on. Now that he'd gotten a routine down once more, he was training each night again. He should get back to it. This whole thing was a lost cause anyways. And Sirius had pointed him towards some helpful books to read the last time they'd spoken - well, spoken and not spoken. Sirius hadn't said a word about his outburst those weeks ago, which made it all the more worse.

"Harry?" He jumped, ready to deny any and all responsibility for whatever someone wanted to accuse him of, when he saw Fia move next to him.

"Oh. Hi," he said, a little awkwardly, trying his best to look innocent. "What's up?"

She looked down the dark - and, even for Slytherin, admittedly creepy - hallway and back at him. "... what are you doing?"

"Um, nothing," he said, leaning back against the wall and jumping again as he nearly fell into a torch. "I mean - um - I just wanted to go for a walk. What are you doing, anyways?" he said, changing course. Not that that ever worked with Fia, he realized after a moment of mild stupidity, and cringed.

"Hermione said you'd wandered down here," Fia said, a little quiet. He was surprised she didn't press him on the topic until she finally said the reason for her visit. "I talked to father."

"Oh," Harry said awkwardly. "I - um - yeah... so you know about Christmas, then?"

Fia nodded.

"Well, it'll be fun here," he told her with a forced smile, trying to cheer her up. "Plenty of students stay for the holidays. And Hogwarts is basically like home -"

"Not really," she said dully. He barely caught what she said with her voice so quiet.

"Well, screw that," Harry said after a pause. "We'll have fun down here then. The dormitories are only for us Slytherins. And besides, they'll catch Lestrange soon. And then they'll stop watching the house." _Again_ , he added reflexively.

"Yeah," she agreed halfheartedly. "I'm gonna go to bed," Fia said abruptly. "Night."

"Night," Harry said after her, but she didn't respond. He took a moment, and then turned back to the dark hallway with newfound determination. Training could wait.

* * *

Sirius nearly missed the mirror heating up. He'd been out on the edge of the staircase, watching Rhia put the tree up with Kreacher and Narcissa's help. It was a lonely Christmas without the children running about - but...

The mirror interrupted his thoughts, and he struggled for a second to fish it out of his pocket. Sirius went back into the library so he could sit down.

"Harry?"

The boy's face appeared as a flicker at first, but then the image sharpened.

"Hi, Sirius," Harry said quietly. It looked like he was in his room at school, the books still strewn over the desk. With a smile, Sirius noted that Harry had had a growth spurt that fall - he'd have to tell Rhia later. And some of the open books were what he'd recommended to him.

"How is school going?" Sirius prodded, when Harry didn't say anything more. There didn't seem to be a particular reason Harry was calling, which was - well, better than it had been in months. Harry'd barely used it second year, and if he'd had a way to check in on him without alerting someone's suspicions, he would have.

"Fine," he replied with a shrug. "Okay. Professor Snape taught us some interesting potions this week before break started."

"Ah." Sirius tried to think of something that would get Harry to talk more. "Fia seems to be enjoying herself over break," he told the boy.

"Oh," Harry said with a surprised smile. "She is?"

"Yes, she was telling me about your games in the common room," he told his charge. "I'm sorry you couldn't come home, but she couldn't stop talking about how much fun it is. And how you're tutoring her, of course. She was really excited about that - "

"It wasn't anything big," Harry said hastily, sounding a bit guilty. "Just small stuff. Magical theory and -"

"Harry, it's fine," Sirius told him with a laugh. "I wouldn't have given you those books if I wasn't okay with you - both of you - learning that."

"But you said to be careful with it...?"

"I mean, don't go telling the teachers what you're learning. But it's not illegal," Sirius reassured him. "You're learning theory, not dark magic."

"Oh," Harry repeated. "Um -" Sirius let him think of the words to say. "Oh." He frowned. "Sirius - can - can I ask you something...?"

"Of course." Sirius' brain scrambled, trying to think of what Harry might want to ask. He'd already called that morning to ask if there'd been any news about Lily. Every other morning, really. He would have done anything to ease the disappointment out of the boy's eyes.

"Why... why did you join the Death Eaters?" Harry blurted out.

Sirius took a breath. To be honest, he'd been expecting the question for a while now. Once he'd learned that not only had Fia gotten ahold of the diary, but that Harry had as well - and that they knew who was in it.

"For family - no, I -" Sirius hesitated a bit. "I wasn't forced," he told him at last, remembering his brother, laying at death's door. "But we were at war, and I felt it was the right decision to make."

"But you didn't join until after you left school...? I mean, Draco said his dad had joined while still at Hogwarts," Harry added.

"Draco shouldn't have said anything," Sirius said with a frown. "Lucius - well, never mind about all that. But yes, he did join during school. There were quite a few who did. But no, I didn't." He saw the next question on Harry's face. "It didn't feel right at the time. Circumstances changed, after."

"With my mother?"

"Not precisely, no." Sirius tried to find the right words, trying his best to remember how little Harry knew about the situation. Merlin, Lily hadn't even told him Potter was his father. He shifted course. "Why are you asking?"

"I - um." Harry took a deep breath. "Do I have to - do I have to join?" His voice quieted to barely a whisper.

"Merlin -" Sirius' brain scrambled for a moment. "Harry, _no_. You're a third year. Even if you wanted to make a decision like that right now, I wouldn't let you."

Harry looked a little surprised at that, which tore into Sirius. "You wouldn't...? But Potter - and Draco said his father -"

"Harry - Merlin, ignore what Draco says. That's his parents, not yours. And ignore what Potter is doing." Sirius paused, trying to remember that Harry wasn't the person he should be mad at. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Harry," he repeated, more calm this time. "You should be focusing on school right now, not worrying about a war that isn't even going on. You're too young to be picking sides or what have you. And -"

"But then why are you training me?" Harry cut in. "Why did To - why are you giving me these books?"

Sirius pretended not to catch Harry's slip. "Because you should be in the position to make a choice when it comes time to, Harry." His gaze was unwavering. "I won't pretend you won't ever have to make a choice - but when you do, make sure you have options. Make sure you have the power to make the choice you want to make, not because someone is forcing you into it. They'll try to force you, don't doubt that. But that doesn't mean you have to do what they want."

"And what about what you want me to do?" Harry asked, his voice still wavering.

Sirius hesitated. "I won't pretend you don't know which side I'm on, Harry, but you will always have a place here."

Harry didn't say anything, so Sirius tried to prod him gently a bit further. "Harry - is there any other reason you're asking these questions?"

"No," Harry said, but his brightness didn't fool Sirius. "Thanks - thank you, Sirius," he said. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course, Harry," Sirius told him. "Just give me a call - I'll be around the house for the next few weeks."

The mirror shut down after Harry said his goodbyes once more. But Sirius stayed in his chair for a moment more, ruminating on what Harry had and hadn't said. Oh, Sirius did believe he was concerned over what he was learning - and Sirius kicked himself for not checking the book over more carefully to see precisely what might have worried him, but what was done was done, and it _was_ a very good book to cover intermediate theory - and he was likely concerned over the pressure to join a side. Sirius had been, at least, though he'd been in Gryffindor at that age... but Harry showed such promise. An unusual strength, even for his age, and even if he couldn't quite place his affinity...

"Is Harry well?" Rhia asked from her spot in the doorway.

"Yes," Sirius said, a little surprised by his wife's welcome interruption. "Yes, yes he is," he repeated, more firmly this time.

"You're troubled, though." Rhia told him.

"A bit," Sirius confessed frankly. "After the events of the diary - well, he's better than he was last year, but he still won't tell me what happened."

"He's a teenager," Rhia informed him, shrugging. "They rarely do. Did you, at that age?"

"He's barely a teenager!" Sirius protested lightheartedly. "I don't know." He shook his head, turning more serious. "Were we really that sheltered? It never seemed that crazed at Hogwarts when we were there... Even with the war going on."

"No, not at Hogwarts." Rhia paused. "There were attacks going on - but outside. We were sheltered. It's taken a different tone, the war now."

"Funny," Sirius said dryly. "I was under the impression the war was over."

"Yes," Rhia said, but she wasn't really responding to him. His wife walked over to the windows, looking down at the streets below. "They're still watching," she said abruptly.

"Let them," Sirius told her, not moving from his chair. "We're not doing anything wrong."

"Then why wouldn't they let Fia and Draco home for Christmas?" Rhia said angrily, yanking the curtains closed. She started to pace like a trapped animal. "You didn't tell them, did you? Or Harry?" she asked suddenly, worry overtaking the anger.

"What good would that do?" Sirius asked quietly. "Better to let them think there was still a choice involved. And if Fia knew - after what Dumbledore did last year -"

"Yes, of course," Rhia said, beginning to pace again. "She's doing better, though," she said dully. "I just feel useless..."

"It'll be over soon." Sirius tried to reassure her, but felt out of his depth. Rhia was usually the one who calmed him down, not the other way around.

"Of course." Rhia shook her head, and walked over to the table, blindly leafing through a few of the parchments lying there. The order that came from Longbottom she avoided like a hot fire. "Do you think Dumbledore knows?" she asked.

"I don't know," Sirius admitted, getting up to join his wife. "Longbottom clearly knows something, otherwise he wouldn't have ordered that the children be kept at Hogwarts." His hands traced the cruel curl of the letters on the page. "For their safety, of course." He snorted. Fia and Draco's names stood out as if written in blood.

"Won't Bellatrix tell you why?" Rhia asked, her hand moving to grasp his.

"No," Sirius told her unwillingly. "I don't believe she can."

"Does it bother you?" Rhia asked abruptly. "The Dark Lord, using them as pawns?"

Sirius looked at their hands entwined on the table. "Is he?" he asked, but talking mostly to himself. "Dumbledore does - well, he does with every student who walks through those doors."

Rhia sighed. "I just wish I knew what He had told Fia last year," she confessed. "She never said a word to me about it."

"Well, she's not practicing Dark magic in her rooms yet," Sirius reminded her. "We would have known."

"Draco's started learning," Rhia whispered. "When do you think...?"

"I think what we talked about is still fine," Sirius told her. "By fourth year, she'll be ready for more advanced magic. I've already given her books to study on theory while she's at Hogwarts."

"It wouldn't be a problem if they actually taught them properly," Rhia said with a frown. "But - still - the diary didn't bother you...?"

Sirius pursed his lips. "What would we have done?" he asked her. "I can only question the Dark Lord so far. At a certain point, we have to have faith."

"Faith," Rhia echoed. "Well, nothing is perfect," she said quietly, though whether she was trying to reassure him or herself more, Sirius couldn't tell.

* * *

Ginny whistled to herself as she wandered through the library, trying to look as aimless as possible. Thankfully she'd lost her brother and Potter as soon as she mentioned the word library. _Ugh._ She felt like an idiot. She'd been so excited at the chance to return to Hogwarts a few days sooner that she hadn't paid attention to _how_ they'd return to Hogwarts sooner, and her mum's face when she thought Ginny wanted to go with Potter... _ugh_.

Outside, the snow was building against the windows. It was rather quiet in the library. Madame Pince wasn't at her desk yet, though a few of the older students were studying at the tables. No one spared a glance for her - though if anything, that made her more paranoid. Easier to get lost in a crowd. That was what she liked about the Gryffindor.

She ducked into one of the darker corners as soon as she was able. The Hogwarts library was a grand space, but a labyrinth, leading one down twists and turns until you lost yourself utterly. As she turned down one of the paths, the light seemed to dim - though whether that was her imagination or the time getting later, she wasn't sure.

Finally, she found the bookcase that had seemed so promising before break. Harry had only shown her the map briefly before she'd had to leave that night, but something - interest? curiosity? - drove her further. Or, maybe, just the knowledge that she could be tracked. But if she knew how - could she stop it?

Her fingers traced the spine of one book briefly. Most of the titles flew over her head. It wasn't quite the restricted section, but neither was it an area where second years typically roamed.

Ginny jumped as a shiver went down her back - but when she looked around, no one was there. She gulped, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart. It was just the flickering lights. Nothing more. No one was there.

Still, she grabbed a few of the books that looked promising and tried her best to calmly walk over to one of the tables, turning around the corner -

"Oh, hi Ginny," Neville said.

Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin. "Oh - um, hi." She took a deep breath when she realized it was just Neville.

"What - what are you doing here?" Neville's usual nervousness was surprisingly reassuring.

"Oh. Just reading up about something McGonagall mentioned in class," Ginny said, blanking for a moment. "It was a little boring just being in the common room all day. What - did you come back early...?" she asked, trying to find something to say.

Neville stood there a bit awkwardly. "Yeah, something like that," he said, ducking his head. "Sorry, I should - I have to get a book, for - for, um, homework..."

"Right, of course," Ginny replied quickly, grateful he wasn't sticking around. She let him squeeze past her, and turned around to go to the table, burying herself in the reading in the hours until dinner.

* * *

"Hermione?"

The witch in question was curled up deeply in one of the common room's emerald armchairs and currently enthralled in a book.

"Mhm?" Hermione answered, not looking up.

"Good book?" Tracey asked, eyebrow raised. When the witch didn't really respond, she flopped onto a couch nearby. "Hermioneeeee," she whined jokingly. "I'm bored. Come on, you've been reading for ages."

She nearly laughed when Hermione did look up slightly at that, but the girl continued to ignore her. But it only took another minute for the witch to crack.

"Fine," Hermione said with a yawn. "I'm done with the chapter anyways. So _why_ are you bothering me?" But she smiled at Tracey.

"Oh, you love me," Tracey said with a grin. "Admit it." She pouted when Hermione rolled her eyes instead. "So, whatcha reading? It's only the first week of classes, you can't have that much work already."

"Oh." Hermione glanced down. "Nothing much. Just - well, some reading up on magical adoptions." She tried to keep her voice light.

"Oh." Tracey didn't say anything for a moment, and then swung herself up to a sitting position. She tried not to sound too serious or too light, and kind of failed at both. "You - because your... what happened this summer?" She winced internally as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

"Yeah," Hermione said awkwardly. She fidgeted a bit in her seat.

"I - well, there's not too much to them," Tracey said with a shrug. "It's a mix of simple magic and actual law. Once the parents accept the kid, it'll be legal and their magic will recognize them. No one's actually done that much work on the subject, I think." She'd only searched once or a thousand times, anyways.

"Right..." Hermione said gingerly.

Tracey bit her lip. "So," she said suddenly, trying to break the tension. "What did you think of the essay for History?"

"Not too bad," Hermione said automatically. "I mean, I'm nearly done with it," she said, going back. "I just need to read up a little on Aquinas' _Summa Theologica_ , but it'll be done after that. And then Ptolemy, of course -"

Tracey zoned out a bit as Hermione went on. One of her favorite things to do was delve into a subject - not that it was a bad thing, but there _was_ a reason Snape had called her the brightest witch of their generation. Tracey's star, in comparison, shined just a little dimmer. Though she knew it was a little mean, Tracey did take just the _smallest_ satisfaction in remembering Hermione wasn't perfect in every area. _Well, for now_ , she amended, thinking back to how social Hermione had become since their first year. Tracey grinned a little. _She's really going to be a force to be reckoned with._

" - so anyways, once that's done, I'll have the essay complete. I know Binns didn't ask for it, but the philosophy behind the church culture of the thirteenth century is just so fascinating," Hermione said, smiling deeply. "Oh - I'm so sorry," she added sheepishly, as the clock struck the hour. "I didn't realize the time! Here - let's go hang out in the dorm." She picked herself up, slipping the book into her bag.

Tracey yawned, following. Not that she minded in the slightest.


	15. The undiscovered country

"The undiscovered country"

They'd been standing in the courtyard since eight that April morning, waiting for the professors to lead them off. It was already an hour later though, and McGonagall had yet to finish the roll call of students going. Harry shivered slightly in his robe, the cold morning mist of Scotland seeping into his bones. He kicked a pebble around with his foot. _Fudge and toffee_ , he reminded himself. Fia's favorites. Not that there was anything to distract him from the task at hand - the rest of the Slytherins weren't really in the mood to talk.

"Remind me why we're going to Hogsmeade again?" Draco broke the silence with an exaggerated yawn, leaning against one of the pillars in the courtyard.

"It's fun to go to town," Hermione told him, taking him a bit too literally. "Don't you want to explore it?"

"Eh." Draco shrugged. "I'd rather be studying up on -"

"Fine, stay here," Tracey cut in sharply. "It's nothing to us." Harry caught her eye and then glanced towards Draco, who'd turned sullen at being cut off. He'd have to talk to him. Or maybe Sirius could. He hadn't been like this the past two years, but it'd been getting worse.

"Gather up!" McGonnagall's voice was a whip across the silence of the cold morning. "Two by two, don't wander on the way down. You are to stay in -"

"What bee got into her bonnet?" Tracey whispered to him.

"They're still letting us go down," he told her, shrugging. "It can't be that bad."

But as soon as they started off down the hillside, it became apparent that something _was_ wrong. The mist that had spread that morning only grew thicker as they made their way towards the village, and with it came something else - a hint of a cold, terrible fear that only grew as they got further away from the looming safety of the castle. For once, even Draco shut up.

"It wasn't like this last month..." Hermione whispered to Harry, as she eyed the unseen threat in the distance. But nothing came as they scurried down into the village, a long line of sheep in sight of the wolves.

"They're not supposed to get near the school," Harry muttered back. "Or near the students." Professor Snape had made sure of that. But even so, Harry shivered instinctively as the Dementors' aura spread across the valley.

The mood brightened just a touch when they finally entered the village. The shops were bright and inviting, the mist dissipating as it reached the edges of Hogsmeade. Witches and wizards wandered freely across the main street, weaving in and out of the shops selling brightly advertised goods.

Yet the smile on his face dimmed just a little as he noticed the papers advertising the curfew on the town hidden just out of sight in the alleyways. Harry stopped in the middle, his friends pausing out of habit. "What do you think happened?" He eyed the falling sign on the top of the old pub with the missing head of the pig. The windows of the Hog's Head were boarded up. On the doorstep were a pile of packages and wrapped up newspapers. The four of them eyed the decrepit old pub, unnerved.

"Come on," Hermione said at last, tugging on Harry's arm. "We should go -"

"That's what happens to dark wizards," came the unwelcome and snide voice of Charles Potter behind them. Harry groaned inwardly.

"Go away, Potter," Tracey said with a sigh, eyeing the crowd around them as they turned around to make sure no one was too close to hear, but only Potter's redheaded sidekick was there. All the students had scattered into the village before their time was up. "No one asked you."

Potter promptly looked offended. "What are you, Malfoy's little Death Eater?" he sneered. Like usual, Ginny's brother found that line hilarious.

"I have a name -" Tracey protested, but Potter ignored her and turned to Draco.

"You should be careful, you know," Potter informed him gleefully. "Uncle told me they've arrested quite a few of _your_ lot." Harry winced, praying internally Draco wouldn't do something rash.

Draco did something rash.

"Piss off, Potter," his friend growled.

"Or what, your daddy's going to curse me?" Potter smirked at them. "What? Nothing to say? Figures you're as big of a coward as your da -"

" _Draco_ ," Hermione whispered loudly, pulling Draco back as he struggled against her. Tracey grabbed his other arm. The two Gryffindors laughed as she almost slipped in the melting snow left on the cobblestones.

"Yeah, Malfoy," Potter uninspiredly jeered. "Listen to your Death Eater followers -"

"Oh, that's Hermione," Weasley reminded him. "She's alright. She's not like those other Slytherins."

"Oh, right -" Potter said, pausing for a moment.

" _Hey_ ," Hermione said, rounding on the two of them. She dropped Draco's arm, but he was stunned into silence by her sudden ferocity. "Piss off. These are my friends, and I _am_ a Slytherin, you bloody idiots -"

"You can't speak to me like that!" Potter looked visibly enraged. "I'm the Boy Who Lived, and you're just a stupid little girl. _And_ a -" But whatever insult Potter was about to throw at Hermione got lost when a snowball hit him in the face.

"What the fu-"

Harry tugged on Hermione's arm as Potter and Weasley turned to figure out where the snowball had come from. "Come on, we should go." Hermione scowled, but listened. Thankfully Draco didn't make too big of a fuss when Tracey dragged him away as well. They were able to disappear down one of the side streets before the Gryffindors realized they were gone.

"That piss poor excuse for a human _being_ ," Hermione fumed as they went down the alleyway.

"Calm do -"

Hermione rounded on him as soon as the words left his mouth. "Do _not_ tell me what to do, Steward." She glared at him. "And where were you? What, cat got your tongue?"

Harry took a step back. "I didn't want to escalate the situation," he told her defensively. "What would have been the point? Potter's always like that, anyways."

"To defend your friends," Hermione responded irritably. "To -"

"Come on, Hermione," Tracey cut in. "Harry's right. We shouldn't be getting in fights with Potter -"

"Easy for you to say," Draco interrupted, turning back from where he'd walked ahead. "They're not insulting you."

"Oh, please, Draco," Tracey replied, rolling her eyes. "Potter would insult me and Harry if he could be bothered to learn our names. Besides, it's not like he's picking and choosing favorites from Slytherins."

"I know you're right," Hermione growled. "But still - it's just - _every single time_." She leaned back against the wall of alleyway with a huff, crossing her arms. "Don't they realize I actually like you guys -"

"Well, I think Weasley's hoping you'll like _him_..." Tracey murmured under her breath, stifling a laugh at the glare Hermione threw her way. "Come on, Hermione. Lighten up. They're idiots. None of us like them. And besides, Draco, not all of us _are_ in a position to go and insult Potter willy nilly. Don't be such a bad influence on Hermione -"

"Wait, what do you mean?" Hermione asked in confusion. "What is so ba -"

Potter and Weasley's voices echoed down the alleyway, interrupting her. "Come on," Harry said, with a wary look back over his shoulder. "We can talk about this later. Let's get into one of the stores. They're not going to pick a fight in front of adults."

The four of them made their way in silence down to the street. "You wanted to get Fia some chocolates, didn't you?" Tracey reminded him. Draco fell back to walk with the other three.

"Oh - there's Honeydukes," Hermione said absentmindedly, her tone more light as they looked down the street. "Let's just stop in there, it'll be warm."

The bell jingled as they opened the door, the wind pushing them into the store. "Merlin, this is so much better," Tracey said with a shiver. The smell of sweets lured them in. "Where are we going?"

"Fudge and toffee," Harry repeated from memory. "Here - there's the stand..." He led them into the aisle, Draco walking next to him silently. Voices of students rose in the store in a loud din.

"Great, more Gryffindors," Tracey said with a roll of her eyes as they perused the display.

"Oh, lighten up," Hermione deadpanned. "They're not all bad."

Tracey snorted. "Geez, Hermione, don't be too harsh on them." Harry grinned as he checked out the different toffees. "He's just trying to love you -"

"Careful," Hermione whispered. "If you say my name three times, a wild Weasley appears -"

Harry had to stifle a laugh of his own as the voices came closer to them. "Here," Draco said stiffly, pointing out a green box as he stood next to Harry. "Fia likes this kind the best."

"Thanks," Harry said awkwardly. "Um..." he picked up the box, turning it over in his hands. "I'm sorry about Potter -"

"It's fine," Draco replied quietly. "I should have just walked away. They say it all the time, anyways. It's not like I haven't heard it before."

"Still," Harry argued, "they shouldn't say that. It's -"

"Oh, let them say it. They'll regret it one day." There was a dark promise in Draco's voice, and Harry's eyes shot up. When had Draco's face become so cold? "One day they'll see my father isn't a coward - and that I'm not, either."

"You shouldn't say that in here," Harry finally replied with unease. "You don't know who might be listening..." His voice trailed off as the Gryffindors came closer, and suddenly, Potter's voice rang through the crowd. Behind him, Tracey and Hermione shut up.

" - only anyone who was guilty would ask that," Potter said angrily. "Malfoy and the rest of those Slytherins... they worship You Know Who. I bet Malfoy even knows where Lestrange is," he added in.

"What?" one of the Gryffindor girls asked uneasily. "Charles - are you sure?"

Once Potter got ahold of a crazy idea, he never let it go, Harry thought with a wince. He looked over at Draco. The other Slytherin was clutching the wood shelf with a terrible grip, his knuckles beginning to go white.

"Of course," Potter drawled, and Harry could just imagine the self satisfied smirk. "Someone had to let Lestrange in. Didn't you ever wonder who?"

 _Yeah, a headmaster with completely inadequate security measures in place to keep notorious prisoners from Azkaban out might have done it._ A hot anger suddenly flashed through Harry, but it was quickly chilled as he turned over the implications of his errant thought. A Death Eater escapes and there were no extra security measures - nothing in the castle at all to stop intruders? Even in the dormitory where the Boy Who Lived slept?

Dumbledore's game. But what did Lupin have to do with it all?

"But - why would Malfoy let Lestrange in?" This one was a new voice, one Harry didn't recognize. "Since, uh - didn't his mum and aunt testify against him?"

"So?" Potter demanded, his temper growing in his voice. "Are you saying I'm lying? I've fought He Who Shall Not Be Named, I think I know something about dark wizards."

"No, no, of course not," the other boy said hastily. "I just thought -"

"Stop thinking. Longbottom, back me up," Potter ordered. "Lestrange kidnapped your dad, didn't he ever say anything?"

"I - um -"

Potter snorted. "Don't be such a coward, Neville," he said with a laugh. "Your father fought off Lestrange. Can't you?"

Tracey tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, Harry," she said in a low voice. "We should go - they're getting closer."

Harry blinked, suddenly realizing that the voices had gotten louder. "You're right." He shook his head, trying the get rid of the stiffness that had crept up on him, and glanced up. Hermione was already down the aisle - "Draco?" he asked absentmindedly. "Let's go."

Draco followed mutely. "Where are we going?" Harry asked Tracey, balancing the chocolates in his hand.

"Basement exit - you can pay down there," she assured him. Hermione had already disappeared down the stairs. "Just didn't think we should run into the Gry - hey, _ow_ ," she complained suddenly, falling as she tripped on the stairs. A distinct yelp could be heard as she tumbled.

"Tracey, are you ok?" Hermione rushed back to where Tracey had fallen onto her side at the bottom step. Her voice was filled with worry. "What happened?"

"I -" Tracey rubbed the side of her hip, waiting for a second before standing. "It felt like someone tripped me..." She looked up in confusion at where Harry and Draco were still standing at the top. "What the hell -"

Harry acted almost instinctively when he saw the dust twitch - _twitch?_ \- on the staircase. The air bubbled a bit around the form, which wasn't quite as noticeable in the dark, but gave him a good idea where their arm would be -

"Hey, let go of me!" the familiar voice demanded.

With a sigh, Harry helped Fia up, taking care not to break the spell and reveal the second year's presence to the store. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk?" he asked Tracey.

"Yeah, in the back," Tracey said with a frown, pulling herself up. "What -"

Harry brushed past her, Fia by his side. "I'll explain in a second," he told her quietly. The three of them followed him back into the dark corners of the basement. With a quiet growl, he turned around. "Fia," he told Tracey bluntly, who frowned. Hermione looked like she was about to have a panic attack, but Draco - Draco only raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked with a shrug at Harry's questioning look. "It's not like she doesn't sneak around at home."

"How'd you get here?" Harry demanded, losing sense of where to look in the relative darkness.

"Down here," Fia informed him, a little too smugly. Harry scowled as he turned around slightly. "There was a secret passage on the map, so we went exploring - "

"Wait, what map? We?" Draco said curiously.

"You weren't supposed to - it doesn't matter what map," Harry said, catching himself. "How long have you been here?" he demanded, switching tactics.

"Long enough to have a snowball fight," Fia said cheekily. It was the first time she'd really joked all year, he noted unconsciously. Was it just enough to be out of the prison of a castle?

Harry went cold. "Please tell me you didn't - "

"They were harassing you!" Fia said defensively. "Besides, it's not like they'll know it was us -"

Luckily, Hermione cut her off before she could say anything further. "Harry, she'll get in so much trouble if she gets caught out of the castle," she said, her face betraying her panic. "It's detention for sneaking out -"

"I know, I know," Harry said with a scowl. "Fia, can you get back?"

"Yes, stop worrying so much," the invisible girl informed him. "The passage is just through here." She pushed past him, disappearing - well, leaving off to Merlin knows where.

"You know," Tracey said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. "You have to give her credit. I don't think we ever found a way to sneak out of the castle as second years."

"Well, we didn't _try_ ," Hermione pointed out, a bit defensively. "I'm sure we could have, if we'd really - "

"Hermione, are you advocating for breaking school rules?" Tracey asked teasingly. "Because if so -"

"No, no, I'm not," the older witch said hastily. "I just - ugh, you know what I mean," she said in exasperation as they followed Tracey to an empty register in the basement. A wizard ducked out from behind a doorway.

"What can I get you folks today?" he asked cheerfully. Harry handed over his stash of candy - though did he still need to get it? - and let the wizard ring him up. With a sigh, he followed the other three out through the basement and into one of the side alleys of the small village. The cold wind blew through them as soon as they opened the door. The quartet made their way off into the center of town where the rest of the students were gathering to go back.

* * *

Against his will, Harry found himself dragged to the final Quidditch game of the year. They'd delayed it with the weather, though everyone found it a welcome respite from exams.

"Please don't," he told Tracey bluntly, wincing as she gave him one of the green and silver flags to wave. "This is really -"

"It's for house pride," she informed him. "Quit complaining."

"Why do I have to wave it if Hermione gets to read?" he groused.

Tracey glanced over at Hermione and gestured to the banner she'd somehow managed to spell over her book. "That counts." Hermione smirked, but didn't look up.

"Bloody unfair," he muttered good naturedly, and yanked the flag away from Tracey. "Fine. Go team. Wooo. Happy?"

"Oh, come on," Tracey said, turning back to watch the game. "Draco's finally starting. He was really excited about it -"

" - that's a change from his normal emo phase -"

" _Harry_ ," Tracey scolded, but the halfheartedness showed. "He was finally excited about something. He even stopped skulking in a corner like a Dementer."

"Yeah, I know." Harry was actually looking for the blonde Slytherin in the sea of flyers, but Draco had disappeared up into the darkened clouds. Shivering, he pulled his cloak closer. Suddenly, one of the players shot out of the sky and hurtled towards the ground, rousing a giant cheer from every other stand.

"Maybe he'll break his neck," Tracey said hopefully as they watched Potter do a fly by of the stands, eliciting an even bigger roar. "That'd shut him up for a while."

"Nah, he'd never shut up about how it was the worst injury in the history of ever," Harry pointed out. "And - Merlin, who was that?"

A loud silence swept over the crowd as the flyer - Slytherin colors, Harry realized dimmly - flashed by Potter and shot towards the ground. "He's seen the Snitch," Harry murmured, but to no one as the Slytherins rose to their feet as an unspoken thrill passed through them like a wave. "He's -"

Potter realized his mistake too late - he was by the Ravenclaw stands, they was just too far away. That the game was over just seven minutes and eight seconds after it began struck the crowd in a silent realization; and even that Slytherin rose to their feet in a overwhelming roar could not mask that the field was filled with deafening silence.

Draco landed on field, pumping his fist into the air. The Slytherin team swarmed around him. Harry was dimly aware of the announcer calling the match in the distance, but his housemates rose as one and he was soon swept up in the crowd. "Where are we going?" he asked Tracey stupidly.

"Common room. Come on, it'll be a party," she said, as the Slytherins around them hustled them down the stand, across the Quidditch pitch, and back into the castle. Harry looked back for a moment - the other houses were still in their stands, stunned like rabbits. "Idiots," Tracey sniffed, as she saw where he looked. "It's a game, not life or death... you'd think we murdered Potter." But as lighthearted as she tried to sound, Harry still caught the grim undertones in her voice. Around them, quiet murmurs ran through the mass like a pulsing heartbeat.

"Draco won fair and square," Hermione said angrily next to him as they walked into the courtyard. Even the gargoyles seemed to glare at them. "It's not his fault Potter was goofing off - why don't they blame _him_? Why does Slytherin always have to be the villain?"

Harry grimaced. One part of him wanted to rail against the injustice of it just as much as Hermione did - as she always did, actually - but another... that quiet, cold voice that kept him safe so often was starting to grow louder now. Was it his own or another's, left over from so long ago? Harry would have questioned his sanity, if he hadn't -

Well, if he hadn't seen that same darkness growing in Draco.

 _They'll regret it one day._

Lie in wait, Tom had always told him. Tom - the Dark Lord. Wait to strike. Sirius - had Sirius had been taught the same? Wait. Always wait...

They were going down the stairs now. As they ducked into the familiar darkness, the torches casting only a flickering light over the trail of Slytherins, a part of him wanted to reassure Hermione, reassure her that it would change, that they were simply children being cruel. And another... another wanted him to whisper that dark promise into her ear, that promise to hurt to all those that hurt them.

Harry shook it off, but there was still a chill that ran through him that no fire could cast away.

* * *

The party was still going past nine that night. Harry smiled, despite the ugly thoughts that lingered in his mind. His housemates seemed to be determined to throw Draco the best party of the year if no one else would. Even Fia had come out of her room - actually, Fia had been in a good mood most of the winter, he realized. Dinner time had come and gone, but several of the seventh years had gone and fetched a feast worthy of the Sorting Night to the dormitories. Professor Snape had even put in an appearance, smiling indulgently - well, as much as Snape _did_ smile, revised Harry - at his house's antics. Now, as the night winded down and the younger students were wandering off to bed, someone in the corner had started up a song about a carpenter's wife.

Harry grabbed a cup of pumpkin juice and walked over to where Tracey and Hermione were sitting in the corner, deep in conversation.

Tracey glanced up briefly and frowned. "I wouldn't drink that, if I were you," she warned him. "Pucey was just pouring something in."

"Oh, great," Harry complained, but sat down on the arm of the chair anyways, placing the cup up on the fireplace mantle. "Well, that explains the singing, anyways..."

"Wait, what?" Hermione asked quizzically, curled up in the corner under a blanket. Down in the dungeons, it was still chilly in the springtime nights.

"Don't worry about it," Tracey said hastily, trying to stifle a laugh. "Have you seen Draco, by the way?"

"Oh, he just went to grab some fresh air," Hermione cut in. Tracey turned back to look at her. "I think he was also going to stop by the kitchens... he should be back soon."

Harry frowned. "I'm sure he just needed a break -" Someone tugged at his arm, but he ignored it. "He was looking a little tired from all the attention."

"Yeah," Tracey said, her tone unconvinced. "Probably just tired."

He looked to the fireplace, letting the calm of the fire wash over him. On the couch, Hermione and Tracey started to debate something or other. " _Harry!_ " a voice next to him hissed.

He finally turned. "Fia?" he asked in surprise, his voice quiet. "I thought you'd gone to bed."

"No - I -" The shorter witch's face was mostly unreadable, but he got the gist quickly.

"Oh, right," he said absentmindedly. "Okay."

"No - Harry, can you come back with me? I ran into Draco - something's wrong." She fidgeted a bit.

" _Oh_ ," Harry answered. "Yeah, of course." He was getting up to follow her when Hermione's voice rang out.

"Where are you going?" the older witch asked quizzically.

"Fia's room," Harry told her, keeping his voice calm. "She -"

Hermione cut him off immediately. "Nope. The two of you are up to something. Spill."

"No, it's nothing," Harry said reassuringly. "She just wanted to -"

"Fia, what's going on?" asked Tracey bluntly. Harry glanced up at Fia, who bit her lip. Guilt - no, concern - was now written all over her face.

"I ran into Draco in the dungeons," Fia blurted out suddenly. "He - um... I think Lestrange is back in the castle and he's going after him - "

"Oh." Tracey looked from one to the other. " _Oh_ ," she repeated, her voice going soft as she realized the gravity of the situation. Her face went white. "Harry," she began, but paused for a moment. "Fia. Why would Draco think Lestrange is in Hogwarts?"

Neither Fia nor Harry would answer her.

"... Right. Okay. Awesome. Perfect. So do you know where he headed?" Tracey eyed the two of them.

Fia glanced at Harry, who nodded. "The Forbidden Forest."

"Okay," Harry said, holding her worried gaze as he stood up. "I'll go get him. Don't worry, he'll be back -" A symphony of voices suddenly protested at that.

"Oh no you don't," Tracey said firmly, standing up as well. "If you're going somewhere, we're coming too."

"What - no, guys, it's nothing -"

"Harry, please," Hermione replied, standing up next to Tracey. "It's the end of the year. If Draco's gone off into trouble, we're going with you."

"I'm coming," Fia informed him. "He's my cousin too." Stubbornness was set in her face.

He had to object to that one. "Absolutely not," Harry said, cutting her off. "I'm not letting you out with us. You're not old enough -"

"You're only a year older!"

"Guys, calm down, you're going to get us caught," Tracey hissed. The two Slytherins shut up, but didn't break their angry glare. "Fia, Harry's right -"

"No he isn't," Fia said mutinously.

"Yes, he is, but not because you're too young," Tracey said bluntly, cutting her off. "Bad enough Draco went wandering off, but if you get caught, it'll look even worse. What do you think the professors would believe if two - not one - the only two members of the Black family at Hogwarts got caught with the notorious prisoner Rodolphus Lestrange?"

"They'd think we're avenging Aunt Bella," Fia argued, but her tone was more muted now.

"No they wouldn't," Tracey told her. "And you know that too. Half the Wizarding World doesn't believe she was innocent, the other half knows she probably wasn't. You two being in Slytherin doesn't help. It – it looks bad."

"Come on." Hermione twisted her wand in hand, the only thing that betrayed her nervousness. "We need to get going. Fia, you're staying here." Her tone gave no room for disagreement.

Fia didn't reply, but just stepped aside. Harry waited until the two witches passed her, then looked at the girl he'd grown up with. "Fia, was there anything else?" he asked quickly.

She looked at him, her dark eyes masking whatever she thought. "He's going to the hollow where the unicorns are," she told him, glancing to the side. Harry followed her gaze to Tracey and Hermione, who were waiting patiently for him to come. "Harry, make sure you come back."

"I will," Harry promised her, but he was already moving to leave. She grabbed his arm.

"Harry - "

He took a close look at Fia, and then pulled her in for a hug. "Don't worry," he whispered in her ear. "It's going to be fine. You'll see." But the witch was still tense in his arms when he had to let her go. "I'll -"

"Be careful," she warned, looking up at him. "You - I've heard the stories about him. He's dangerous. You can't fight him."

"It won't come to that," Harry argued, but the words felt dry in his mouth. Squeezing her hand, he let it drop. "Besides, I heard once he was the worst student in his class." The laugh didn't come. It was true though. He remembered that night suddenly, Bella and Sirius in the library. Bella had seemed sad, almost.

His hands were clammy as they walked out of the dormitories together and out of the dungeons. It was strange. Someone should have, really, but the castle was deserted. Soon enough, they arrived at the great doors that led out of the castle and into the courtyard. Moonlight burned across the floor of the hall as they studied the barrier in front of them.

"Maybe we should have used the dungeon exit..." Harry said as he eyed the imposing doors. "I suppose we can just try to unlock it?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said practically. "This is quicker. And I think -" She stepped forward and pushed on one of the doors. With a groan, it edged open. "There. You don't always have to use magic, you know."

Harry glanced at Tracey, who eyed the door uncomfortably. "I know," he told her quietly. "It's..."

"Too easy." She pushed past him, following Hermione out into the nighttime, and waited by the side of the door as he exited. With silent steps, they followed Hermione out of the courtyard and down the long bridge. "Even Dumbledore's not as much of an idiot to leave the castle doors unlocked. And when you look at what happens at the end of each year - the stone, the basilisk - now this. It's as if he wanted someone to get hurt."

"Anyone, or someone in particular?" Harry muttered, too quiet for Hermione to hear. Tracey shot him a look.

"Should we be expecting someone?" she asked blandly.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "How could anyone have planned for Draco to find out Lestrange was here -"

"Admittedly that's not that much of a guess," Tracey said dryly. "He's been somewhere on the grounds all year."

"But tonight?" Harry looked over at her as they reached the end of the bridge. Only the light of the full moon lit the way across the hills and valleys that led into the darkness of the Forest. "What's so special about tonight?

* * *

Charlus Potter winced as he walked down the stairs from the Headmaster's office. The pain in his arm was becoming more frequent nowadays. Clearly the healer hadn't done the proper job.

With a growl, he strode off towards the castle doors. He'd be able to apparate to the Longbottom's house once he got outside the limits of Hogwarts. The magic of the school pressed down on him like a heavy weight, caging him in, even as he left the confines of the stone walls. When he got outside, an owl's hoot could be heard in the night.

"Uncle!"

James' cry stopped Charlus for a moment. He turned towards the path out of the castle. Sure enough, his nephew - that idiotic, useless husk - was hastening towards him, out of breath. Charlus eyed James' rumbled appearance with a frown. Whatever it was -

"Uncle, Charles snuck out of the castle," James informed him, his tone frantic.

 _Well, the headmaster had been right about the timing_ , he mused in his head. He looked at his nephew with a frown. "And... yes?"

" _Uncle_ ," James pleaded, though it sounded suspiciously like a whine. "We need to track him down. He could be in grave danger -"

Ah. That sentimentality - that weakness, really - was getting annoying. Why had he stopped giving his nephew those potions again? Brain damage could not be worse than the annoying little rugrat that stood before him.

"Are you sure, James?" Charlus asked benignly.

"Of course I am," James said sharply. "After last year, do you think I'd let him go back to Hogwarts without keeping an eye on him?" His nephew took a step back, seeming to grow in the darkness of the night, the full moon flickering over his face. "He's gone out to the Forbidden Forest for Merlin knows what purpose."

Charlus paused, considering his nephew carefully. This wasn't a side he'd seen of James before - anger nearly smoking off of him, his muscles taut as if he was preparing for a fight. "James -"

"There's no time," his nephew told him, pushing past to hurry towards the bridge. He stopped for only a moment to look back at Lord Potter. "Uncle - please - he doesn't know what's down there. He's only a third year." James' eyes met Charlus' in a wordless plea. "He's my son... Lily would never forgive me if something happened to him."


	16. From whose bourn

"From whose bourn"

The trio proceeded silently through the trodden path leading into the hollow. Around them, the forest seemed to have fallen into a very deep sleep. Not even the owls were out that night.

 _It wasn't so dark and forbidding once you were in the thick of it_ , Harry mused. Moonlight drifted across the moss-covered forest floor, revealing the way forward once you found your footing. Hoof prints covered the ground in parts, though Harry couldn't tell which inhabitants of the forest had left them. _Maybe Care of Magical Creatures would have actually been useful._

"So - um, not to be morose and everything," Hermione said gingerly, eyeing the gloomy crevices of the forest surrounding them, "but what exactly is the plan? Just keep walking and hope Draco hasn't been murdered yet?"

"He hasn't been murdered yet," Tracey answered dryly. "We haven't heard any screams, and Draco's far too full of himself to die in noble silence."

"I suppose that's true," Hermione muttered. "Still, we should -"

A loud scream rang through the air, only to be ended with a sudden silence. Tracey went white.

"That was a joke..." she said in shock to no one in particular. "Oh, gods, _Draco_ -"

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing their hands with an unusual force. "Forget a plan, we have to get to him -"

They ran through the forest blindly, guided only by the moonlight darting through the trees above. A vague and unwelcome sense of deja vu hit Harry in the gut - a looming shadow chasing him into the darkness - but he squashed it as a fear for Draco overwhelmed him. They were so close - he could see the opening in the trees before him.

"There." The ragged voice of the man whipped across the silence of the hollow. "Gryffindors never change much. Annoying little brats, even when I went to school."

Before them, a figure stood in the center, his blonde hair shining in the moonlight. Harry slowed for a second, but it was a little late to stop. Only when he skidded into the hollow did the realization hit him.

"Draco," he said dully, and his blonde classmate swirled around. On the moss covered ground lay two unmoving figures - no, not dead? The bile rose in his throat -

The Slytherin frowned. "They're only stunned, Harry." Next to him, the man - Lestrange, Harry realized, with a coldness rising in him - snorted.

"Draco -" Tracey said in warning, raising her wand. "That man is a convicted Death Eater. I don't care what he told you. Step away from him."

But Draco took a step back, retreating away from them into the darkness to stand next to Lestrange. Harry numbly noted that the three of them were now left standing in the center of the covering, downhill from where the two stood in the darkness and utterly exposed in the brilliant light that came down from the sky. "It's not what it looks like -"

Lestrange laughed, the harsh sound echoing across the forest. "Oh, yes, it is precisely what it -"

Hermione lunged forward, her eyes wide in fear, but she never dropped her wand. "Let. Him. _Go_." she demanded.

That terrible hyena laugh stopped suddenly as Lestrange stepped into the clearing. Harry looked at him unflinchingly. He was thin, skeletally so, with hair that fell in dirty clumps across his face. Threadbare robes covered his frame. And in his eyes - his eyes showed a horror, but not a threat. He wasn't looking at them to attack, Harry realized. No, he was staring - staring at Hermione.

"You have fire." Desperation seemed to creep into his voice, as Hermione shifted uncomfortably next to him. "Her -"

"Draco, stop this." Tracey ignored Lestrange. "Why are you - he's a Death Eater, he's a follower of You Know Who - did he place you under the Imperius?"

That awful laugh broke out again. "And what would you know of the Dark Lord?" Lestrange demanded. One hand fell limply by his side, the other playing with something around his neck.

"I don't think he's under the Imperius," Harry said quietly. Swallowing the fear rising in his throat, he watched Draco and Lestrange. _Tom would be proud_ , the voice in his head whispered. For once he was thinking through the situation - watching, waiting. Draco still had his wand... but Lestrange didn't have one. Who had stunned the two bodies? Either Draco - or Lestrange could perform wandless magic. _Not an or_ , _Harry_ , the voice whispered. _You think I didn't train them as much as I trained you?_ But of course Tom - the Dark Lord, Harry corrected himself, _not_ Tom - had. Harry wasn't special. He never had been. _Just another tool, another one of his toys._

Harry glanced up as the older wizard began to prowl the edges of the hollow anxiously. "I -"

"Uncle." Draco's voice cut across the hollow with an unsettling calm. "You need to explain."

Lestrange glanced back at Draco furtively, his eyes dancing back and forth between the third years. Harry ignored them, studying the two figures closely. Longbottom, he realized. The idiot. And - oh Merlin, no -

 _Potter._

"We need to grab those two idiots," Hermione muttered, following his eye. "We can't leave them. And Draco -"

"Forget Draco, he's a lost cause," Tracey cut in, the fear tainting her usually steadiness. "But Lestrange - Lestrange doesn't have a wand. If we move fast enough -"

"It won't work," Harry murmured, meeting Lestrange's gaze. The wizard stopped pacing as he considered him, frowning. The rope - the rope held a medallion, a sigil burning -

"You can see it..." Lestrange's voice lowered to a cruel whisper, not the less dangerous despite its quiet.

"Harry, what's he talking about? Hermione - get ready - "

Harry's eyes flew from the medallion to Lestrange's face in shock, and he stepped forward. "That's a... No, it wouldn't." But he looked to Draco, who nodded confirmation. A cold clarity settled over Harry, the fear dissipating. And somewhere in the back of his head, he noted the warm presence that was coming closer and closer. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Next to him, Hermione didn't lower her wand.

" _Harry!_ " Tracey hissed. "What are you -"

 _He's here_. Unconsciously, Harry relaxed.

"Rodolphus." Behind him, Sirius' voice cracked the icy silence of the hollow. "Children, put down your wands."

Tracey and Hermione swung around, but Harry continued to stare at the prisoner from Azkaban and his friend. How - why - _who?_ Bellatrix, it must have been.

"Professor?" For the first time all night, Harry heard genuine panic in Hermione's voice. "Wh - how did you find us?"

"Do you think you're the first to try to sneak out of the castle? You're children, I don't leave you alone with no supervision." Professor Snape sounded insulted by the very suggestion. "Now step aside." Their footsteps were soft on the moss, but Harry heard Hermione and Tracey retreat behind the two.

"Harry." Sirius' voice was quiet as he lay a hand on the teenager's shoulder.

"The - "

"I know."

"I must say, your plan is impeccable as always, Rodolphus," Severus drawled, walking over to inspect the two unconscious students. "You've managed to stun only the two most important students in this castle. Well done."

"I'll be gone before they wake," Lestrange said irritably. "I would have killed them outright, had -"

"We have children listening," Sirius reminded him coldly. "Draco, get down here - what were you _thinking_?"

Draco glanced over at Lestrange, but walked down the hollow to the two of them, keeping his voice quiet. "The collar -"

Sirius sighed. "I'm aware. I promise I will explain later, but your mother is going to kill me if you get caught out here."

"Come on, Draco," Harry muttered, finally turning to go back to Tracey and Hermione at a look from Sirius. "We should -"

"Why didn't you come before this?" Lestrange demanded. "All year - I've been stuck in this dunghill _all year_. You should have _known_ \- if fucking children can find me -"

"Your magic has been masked." Sirius informed him. Harry could hear the fury hidden in his voice. "You think I didn't try? I came as soon as I found you."

"We don't have time for this," Severus interrupted. "I need to take these idiots back before someone misses them - Draco, don't look so smug, that includes you -"

"No, no, you _can't._ " It was a deep, guttural cry that shook Harry to his core.

Tracey looked to Draco. "What's he -"

"I don't know," Draco admitted, something like fear finally crossing his face. Unconsciously, he inched closer to Harry and Hermione.

"You can't," Lestrange echoed, staring at Sirius. "Not when I'm finally so close." An eerie quiet settled over the hollow.

"We need to leave," Tracey muttered, looking from Draco to the wizards standing before them. "We need to -"

"You can trust Sirius," Harry said quietly, reaching out for Hermione's hand. She squeezed his reassuringly, more relaxed with the arrival of their professor.

"Harry - no, we need to - guys, he is a _Death Eater_ ," Tracey hissed. "This is getting ridiculous. Whatever - why aren't they arresting him?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably, and glanced at Harry, who looked furtively back at him and shrugged.

Tracey looked between the three of them in askance. "You've _got_ to be - Hermione, come on. I'm all for saving Draco from his own stupidity, but the adults are here - _helping_ the Death Eater -"

"They're not helping -"

"Well, they certainly aren't stopping him," Tracey pointed out. "Hermione -"

"I -" Hermione glanced at her yearmates. "If Draco and Harry stay, I'm staying with them," she said finally, stubbornness creeping into her face.

"Idiots," Tracey said softly with a growing horror, inching away from the hollow. "I'm surrounded by _idiots_ -"

But her voice trailed off as she looked up. Harry followed her gaze, only to meet the quiet stares of the three wizards before them. Draco took a step back as if to shield Tracey, the four of them drawing closer together... as if they could stop what was coming.

"Are you sure?" But Sirius didn't aim the question at the four of them.

"Of _course_ ," Lestrange growled, with a twisted smile. His left hand twisted his robe frantically, clawing at the fabric. "Don't you - don't you see? They didn't even - oh, Merlin -" He laughed himself hoarse. "They _didn't even cover it up_. She's right there - she's been in front of you this whole time - Severus..." He made his way slowly down into the hollow, dragging himself closer and closer towards the Slytherins.

The four children stepped back as if in unison as Lestrange crept closer. His eyes glinting as he stared at them; as he drew closer, Harry could see the dirt that covered his skin, the way his hair stuck together in clumps of grease. His tongue flitted out as if to touch the air. And as he crept closer and closer... there was a hum of an aura, a buzz that entered the air. Harry felt himself staring, but he couldn't break out of it. Numbly, he saw the raven sigil, the moonlight glinting off of it... but Severus suddenly swept in front of them, blocking Lestrange off from the third years.

"Don't." It was a whisper, but it carried across the hollow.

"You would deny me this?" Lestrange demanded. "Here, now? After all this time? You would keep me from my _daughter_? I knew it immediately when I saw the paper - first in her class, just as brilliant as her mother - her fire, her light -"

" _What_?"

Harry spun around, but the words were already spilling out of her.

"No, no, _no_." The words spilled out of Tracey like a flood, her eyes wide in shock. "No -"

"Not you, you silly child," Lestrange sneered, his eyes glinting stubbornly. " _Her_."

And his hand - his hand pointed right to Hermione...

"Me?" The words came out in a whisper, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her.

Silence spread across the hollow, stretching out uncomfortably.

"You doubt me?" Lestrange demanded, but he wouldn't move his piercing gaze. " _Lord_ Black - you think I wouldn't _know_?"

Sirius turned slowly - so, so slowly - to face the students.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, the words sticking in throat. "Is -"

Sirius nodded, looking between the two of them. "He's right." The words came out coolly, his face not betraying a single thought. "Rodolphus -"

"I didn't realize you were on a first name basis with him."

For the first time since Harry had met him, Sirius blanched.

Lupin stepped out of the darkness of the trees - between the third years and the three older Slytherins, Harry noted coldly. "Though I shouldn't be surprised. James always told me I was a fool."

"Lupin, what are you doing?" Severus growled, his eyes flashing in anger as he stepped forward. "You idiot -"

Lupin ignored him. "When I smelled you both leading out of Severus's office... some things never change -"

"Smell?" Draco whispered to Harry, Tracey having moved still further back

"No, they don't, you self-righteous _fool_ ," Severus spat out. "You were so busy chasing old school ghosts that you didn't take your potion -"

 _A bit anti-climatic_ , Harry thought numbly, the clues falling into place as a cry tore from Lupin's throat.

"This is all your fault," he informed Draco, the four students freezing as their Defense professor started to transform into a werewolf in front of their eyes. "If we get out of this -"

"I think I just heard a bone break," Draco said, turning faintly green.

" _Charles_?"

Harry's head whipped to the darkness stretching into the trees, but Sirius beat him to it. The red light exploded into the air; the werewolf - their werewolf professor? - went flying, landing with a whine several feet back.

"Potter, _move_ ," Sirius ordered. "We need to keep Lupin away from Hogwarts. Severus, get the children back to the castle - now."

James Potter was formidable in battle, even Harry had to admit that. He flew through the air with a cold rage, never stepping twice in the same place. Light began to fly through the air, the two wizards disappearing from view. Lestrange, too, had disappeared, but Harry didn't have a chance to question why or where to before Severus tugged him back, the two Gryffindors stumbling behind, still too out of it to be a pain. Tracey needed no such convincing.

"Hermione," Draco pleaded, tugging on her arm. "Come on, we need to -"

But Hermione could only stare at the wizards; in horror or in fear, Harry couldn't tell. "Hermione - "

Suddenly she seemed to snap back into it. "We need to go," she repeated blindly. "Draco - Tracey?"

"She's up ahead," Harry answered. Before them, the two wizards were dueling ferociously, but the spells only seemed to bounce off Lupin.

"Come on," she said, pulling the two wizards with her as she tore her gaze away.

As they turned forward into the darkness of the forest, a howl ripped through the air... and then a second answered it.

If there was anything worse than one's professor suddenly turning into a werewolf hellbent on tasting human flesh, Harry thought as they trudged through the Forbidden Forrest, the light of the castle rising in the distance, it was Charles Potter coming to from being stunned.

" _What_ am I doing out here?" Potter demanded suddenly, coming to a stop. "I refuse to go any further before -"

"I was hoping you might tell me," Severus said with a sneer, swinging around to face the two Gryffindors. "But detention will have to wait until you're back safely at the castle, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you had a good excuse for sneaking out while one of the most notorious Death Eaters -"

Next to him, Hermione's face was blank.

"... I was going to catch him! Longbottom had figured out a way to track him." Potter said rebelliously. "And I would have, too, if -"

"Yes, you finally have something in common with Mr. Malfoy," Severus said drily. "You can discuss your idiocy in detention. I'm sure you'll be the best of friends by the end of it. Now move."

Potter shut up when Severus turned away from him again, only pausing to shoot a glare at Malfoy and the Slytherins.

* * *

An owl cried as they finally came out of the forest, the hills looming over them. Even though they'd already come so far, the distance seemed much greater now. Silently, Severus led them through the path to the castle next to the lake -

The howl this time came so much closer, the shriek carrying through the air like a gun blast.

Severus turned back to the children, his face grim. "Run - get to the boathouse -"

His words turned silent as Harry looked back. Three figures had run out of the forest on the opposite banks of the lake, two slowly shifting back into human form - one -

One didn't.

The howl came through the air again, more of a whine this time. Injured. It - Lupin ran now, ran away from the wizards. They didn't chase him.

Sirius and Potter stood silently on the opposite shore, unmoving for a brief second.

And then the green light came from nowhere, dancing across the snow frosted grounds, its beauty hiding the great darkness within. It hit one of the wizards soundlessly, the life disappearing within a mere second.

The lifeless body flew through the air, arching back as it fell into the snow.

Someone yelled his name, but he wrenched himself out of their grasp.

He saw the real danger, the coldness that flew from the sky itself, their dark hands reaching forward...

"Sirius!"

The coldness grasped at him again, and then it overtook him.

* * *

Unlike most years, the train ride back to London and their summer break was a somber mood.

Remus Lupin's murder had left most of the school in a state of shell shock - enough to suspend the remaining weeks of schools for everyone except those taking O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. They'd only been given a day to pack, no answers given. Even now, on the train, no one was talking. The students had disappeared, leaving only whispers in their wake.

Draco eyed the rest of them from his corner. They hadn't had a chance to talk the night before - the dementors had seen to that.

"Hermione..." The older witch didn't even glance up from her book. Draco looked to Harry, and then back at her. "We should talk."

Tracey looked at the three of them nervously. "Are they going to question us?"

"I doubt it," Harry replied. "We didn't _do_ anything -"

"But you saw..."

"I didn't see anything." He interrupted her before she could say anything further. Hermione glanced at him furtively, but didn't contradict him. "Besides, as far as anyone knows, Lestrange was only there to kill Charles Potter -"

"Which he said he was, so that's not a lie." Tracey looked at him and paused before answering the unspoken question. "Don't worry. I'm not going to say anything different. Just - thank Merlin he wasn't there for me. I don't know what I would have done -"

"What you would have done if you found out you'd been born to one of the most notorious Death Eaters and your entire life was a lie and the parents you loved weren't really your parents are all and might have helped kidnapped you?" Hermione asked blandly, still looking at her book. "Oh, the horror."

Tracey bit her lip. "I didn't mean -"

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said, her voice flat. "We're pulling in anyways."

As the train chugged into King's Cross and came to a stop, Tracey got her trunk off the rack above. The other three didn't move. "Well - I'll see you this fall." No one replied. Awkwardly, she left the compartment, leaving the three of them sitting.

"I'm going to go see where Fia is," Harry said, pulling himself up as the door swung shut. He didn't wait for a reply, but he heard them begin to speak as he left.

"Tracey."

She'd been waiting by one of the train doors, and jumped a little at her name. "Harry - I - I wasn't - uh, I wasn't waiting for you guys."

"I know," he said, still a bit uncomfortable.

"No, my parents - I was just trying to find them. I don't know where they are." She looked out over the platform, but the figures were still covered by the neverending steam. "I -" She sighed, and turned back to him. "Is Hermione okay?"

"I think so," Harry ventured. "But... I don't know. I think she's still in shock."

"Yeah... Geez, I sounded like such an idiot in there - these words - I just can't stop them. But it was just - it was a _relief_... it's not even about him." She bit her lip. "It's really not. It's just - I don't want new parents. Mum and Dad - they've been amazing to me. The idea someone could just take me away from them... it's scary. But I don't... I don't know what I would ever do if someone told me my past. I don't want to know... and when he said first in the class - that stupid, silly newspaper article, I went cold. All I could think about were how proud Mum and Dad had been."

"You should tell her that then," Harry replied finally, looking out over the platform. "I think she's more - well, with who he is."

Tracey looked back, her eyes widening. "Wha - _no_. Oh my gosh... that is what it sounded like... Fuck. No, no, I wasn't upset by that. And I'm not going to say a word... oh damnit. I was such an idiot. What I said in the -"

"To be fair, what we all said." Harry looked at her. "Something's wrong with this all, you know."

"Yeah," she said, eyeing him, her voice lowering to a hush. "I was thinking that over last now. How Hermione got there - why he was locked up - why Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't - "

Her voice trailed off suddenly as the steam began to dissipate. On the platform were twenty or thirty aurors, led by Longbottom.

"They're probably just here as a precaution," Tracey said uncomfortably, misunderstanding why Harry tensed suddenly. "They'll let us off - "

"Iphigenia Black." Longbottom stepped towards the train as he spoke, his voice echoing as the crowd of students fell silent. "Please come forward."


	17. No traveller returns

"No traveller returns"

He'd tried 12 Grimmuald first.

The aurors were everywhere. It'd taken everything he had not to panic as he left the station. They'd _shoved_ Fia forward the second Longbottom had said her name. Her face - no, it wasn't the time to think about it.

Because if he thought about Fia's dead white face, that blank expression -

Everywhere he turned there was another auror. For what? To find a second year? He'd taken Hermione by the hand - or maybe she'd taken him, he couldn't quite recall - and they made their way out to her parents. Draco had frozen. Tracey had too. But Hermione - no, they didn't know about her yet, and with any luck they never would. Did they though? Who had left her there? Heart pounding, hands clammy, they made their way blindly out of the station. Her parents - her not-parents - had glared at him.

That'd been six hours ago.

The aurors were waiting outside 12 Grimmuald. He wasn't idiotic enough to try to sneak past them. But they hadn't been inside... he stored the information away for later.

The trunk was getting heavy. The muggles were glaring at him now, angry at the person blocking the path in rush hour. But where -

" _Harry_?"

The lone figure of Petunia Dursley stood outside Selfridge's, frozen in shock.

"I thought you were dead."

* * *

Regulus stared out the window. No matter how many times he reminded himself that they couldn't see him, the slightest shiver still went down his back whenever the aurors looked up at the house. _They can't see that, either_.

 _If only Rhia hadn't -_

"Master Regulus." Kreacher's curt tone broke the silence. "A letter."

"You can leave it on the desk," Regulus said. With one last frown and an absentminded itch of his arm, he turned back into the library, his eyes falling on the lone letter on the desk. Sirius had always taken care to hide any papers before leaving the house. His care had finally paid off.

He froze.

That handwriting... no, it couldn't be. He was in Azkaban.

His hand drifted to his arm again. He didn't need to look to see why.

With a growing smile, Regulus strode forward and plucked the letter off the desk.

Maybe there was hope yet.

* * *

The hotel was one of those old ones in Mayfair - high ceilings, grand swooping staircases, and an echo of gold whichever way one looked.

Bellatrix tapped the side of her tea cup nervously, her hands oddly clammy.

"Would you like a drink while you wait, madam?"

"Champagne," Bellatrix said slowly, staring down at the lobby. "And a scotch - no, make that a double."

"Champagne and scotch, very good."

"I don't think I'm supposed to be drinking."

He had come in through the back of the hotel while she'd been waiting. Her heart stopped for the barest moment; she couldn't look - not just yet.

His voice was ragged, yes, but just the same as the last time they'd met here, the night he'd proposed. A voice of wild promises and dark dreams, so out of place in the mundane of the muggle world. It was a moment of freedom in chaos. Strange, that no one had ever thought to follow her there.

It'd been scotch then too - champagne and scotch.

"Bellatrix."

She turned back to the table. His dark eyes bore into hers unrelentingly; she winced. There was an emptiness in there that hadn't been there before. A shower and new clothes couldn't hide it.

"I..."

"I know." He reached out for her hand, lifting it into his. "I was an idiot, I wandered into the trap. There wasn't anything you could have done."

"You should have come to me first. We could have... we would have made a plan together. Whatever you were looking for."

A glint came to his eyes. "No, I was - I was addled," he confessed. "Your gift helped, but only... no, I had to go. _You_ know what I was looking for."

"Did you find... our child?"

"Oh, Bellatrix." He squeezed her hand. " _Yes_. I found her."

 _Her_.

"Your scotch, sir."

* * *

"Do you want juice?"

Harry swallowed before answering and put his fork back down on his plate. "No thanks."

His aunt poured some for herself and came back to the kitchen table, shuffling her chair in as she sat down. She paused. "Harry..." Aunt Petunia began.

He knew what she was going to say. His throat was still ragged from waking up screaming.

"I was thinking." She smiled at him. She looked like his mother when she did that, and an odd dart shot through his stomach. "I've been seeing someone - about Vernon, as you probably know - and she suggested I might bring you along sometime."

"Oh." He looked down at his eggs and twisted them along on his fork, suddenly losing a bit of his appetite. "Um. Yeah, maybe."

"Okay," his aunt replied. He was grateful she didn't press the subject. "What would you like to do today? I was thinking the bookstore."

Harry perked up a bit at that, but then he remembered what day it was. "Maybe the zoo? I know Dudley doesn't like the bookstore, and his train's coming in at -"

"Oh, don't worry. Dudley decided not to come this weekend," Aunt Petunia said, trying her best to plaster a smile on her face. "Lots of summer homework apparently."

"Right." Harry slowly took another bite.

He didn't need to look up to see she was staring at him.

"Harry, you woke up screaming again," she said gently. "That's been... most nights this summer. Is it because of what happened at the train station?"

Something inside him wanted to lie, wanted to twist out of the truth - _she doesn't deserve the truth_ , that ugly voice inside him whispered - but there was something about the tone that threw him off. Her face... in this turn of the light, she looked so much like his mother that his heart sank. And she knew it - knew what she was asking, he could tell by the look in her eye.

"No," he said, but he left it at that. He didn't know how to put it into words, even if he did want to speak - there was nothing there, nothing but blood in the snow and death's silence in the woods.

Dreams. Nothing but dreams. Nothing but voices in his head.

They weren't real.

They couldn't be.

* * *

" _Wait_ ," Draco said quickly before Tracey could open the door fully, motioning to keep silent. She tilted her head, trying to hear what he did.

" - Ginny and that bitch are driving me crazy," the unwelcome voice of Weasley loudly announced in the open corridor. By the sound of it, he was coming toward them. Draco had to hold in a snort. "All they do is argue all the time. Why did we have to be the ones to take her?"

"... Dumbledore didn't think it wise, what with Uncle gone," Potter said coldly.

Draco's ears perked up at that.

"Of course, right," Weasley said hastily. "But still -"

"She's just a silly little girl, would you quit complaining so much?" The two of them stopped for a moment, and Draco's hand inched towards the door, ready to slam it shut if they came too close to the compartment. "You whine more than your sister did at the World Cup, and she at least -" But whatever Potter was about to say was lost in the bustle of more students flooding out of the train, and with a sigh, he leaned back into the seat.

"Looking forward to the school year?" Tracey asked flippantly.

"What's not to be excited for?" Draco said, shrugging. His voice was cold. "I've had three people call me a Death Eater today, and half the family's either fled the country or in Azkaban. Can't get better than that. Come on." He stood up. "Maybe we can find Harry and Hermione while we're at it."

She paused before following him out the door and to the horseless carriages. "Yeah."

"These things always give me the creeps," Draco complained, as he looked down the platform. "Oh - there they are! Harry! Hermione!"

But neither lifted their head, both staring curiously at the carriages with a mix of shock and a curious fear.

"Here," Draco said when they reached the two Slytherins, feeling awkwardly out of place by the two's strange silence. "This one's... uh, free..." Thankfully, Harry and Hermione followed him wordlessly into the carriage. He shared a look with Tracey at the pair's curious behavior as the quartet settled in, the carriage lurching to a start.

"Nice haircut," Tracey said, the words twisting a bit in the air. "It looks really good Hermione."

"Thanks," the older witch said, her voice a bit anxious as she came back to the present. "I - um - I wanted a change."

But that wasn't the only change, Draco noticed as he eyed his friend - his cousin, he corrected himself. Her hair seemed darker, her eyes brighter. She'd cut it much shorter than he was used to; it was sleeker, less carefree. But there was something so different to her face... it wasn't jarring, just different.

"We're here," Hermione reminded him, and he slid back to let her exit the carriage first.

"What'd she _do_?" Draco hissed to Tracey. "Makeup?"

"That's not just makeup," Tracey said with a frown. "Draco - did you talk to her over the summer at all?"

"Just letters," Draco said. "But she stopped writing halfway through. I don't think her parents - the muggles, I mean - liked it much."

Tracey's eyes flicked up to the girl in front of them. "Huh," she said.

* * *

"My apologies for keeping you after the feast," Professor Snape said, his voice short. Harry glanced up as he closed the door behind him, pausing before he took the seat in front of the desk. He'd never seen his house professor quite so... stressed?

"I was hoping to talk earlier this evening, but it would have raised too many questions."

"Yes," Harry said, the words turning dry in his mouth.

"They don't know anything," Severus assured him, answering the unspoken question. "No one has made inquiries yet. You're safe. For now, at any rate."

Harry twisted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. Next to him, sparks flew from the fireplace as the flames began to die.

He worked up the courage to ask the question twisting inside him. "Sirius?"

"Lord Black was sentenced to Azkaban. No trial." His teacher looked at him, but Harry wouldn't meet his eyes. The guilt bubbled in his stomach, squeezing him from the inside out. "Harry, listen to me. There was nothing you could have done. They'd been investigating the Black family for some time. Sirius knew the risks -"

"Why didn't he leave then?" The words burst out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Or fight - or do _something_ , anything -"

"There were attempts made to leave," Severus said calmly, his voice quiet. "Particularly to take the children - including you - out of the country. It was found to be impossible -"

"But my mother did it," Harry argued. "She left - she left and she never looked back -"

"Lily was believed to be dead by the government. She was not subject to the wards put into place tracking British witches and wizards." A shadow passed over Severus' face, but his voice went unchanged. "And I can assure you, whatever may have happened, she most certainly did look back. Leaving you was the hardest decision she ever made."

Harry let the words he'd been trying to say all summer fall out of his mouth.

"... she's dead, isn't she? My mother is dead."

Severus paused before responding. "Yes. We believe she is." He took a sip of his water before going further. "Harry - in her letters, Petunia mentioned you were having nightmares this summer -"

Something burst in him, a jagged edge that tore through him with all the subtlety of a rusted knife. "What do they mean?" he demanded. "The dreams - Sirius, Fia, Hermione – Lestrange escaping – and where the hell is Uncle Regulus? Why did the government think my mother was dead? I know _nothing_ -"

"You know quite a bit for someone who still has very little means to guard their mind properly," Severus pointed out dryly. "Witches and wizards with much more experience and much _less_ knowledge were just arrested in plain sight at the World Cup. You may call it whatever you want, but I will _not_ put you in further danger – no, sit down and _listen_ – without ensuring your protection." His glare cut straight through Harry. "I am not hiding the information from you, so quit acting like a child. Weekly lessons. We'll start where Sirius left off. When you're ready, I'll tell you as much as I know."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the head of Slytherin cut him off. "And know this - I do this out of loyalty to your mother and no one else. As long as you want it, you have my help."

Harry swallowed nervously, biting back his attempt to speak quickly. "Thank you, sir," he said finally, the implications of Severus' words threatening to overwhelm him.

Severus nodded, an odd glint in his eye. "Now." He moved on briskly, leaving Harry oddly grateful. "I asked you here to discuss the new events this year."

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Harry asked in confusion. "It didn't make much sense when the Headmaster explained it - it sounded a bit..."

"I believe the word you're looking for is dangerous," Severus drawled. "Before it was banned, it was notorious for killing off its student champions." His mouth twisted into a sharp sneer. "So naturally, when the idea was broached this summer, the Headmaster thought it would be perfect to bring back. Why do you think that is?"

"... to enter Potter as a champion?" Harry replied nervously. Severus nodded, but let him continue. "But students aren't allowed to enter if they're underage - but that would just make it all the more significant if Potter was able to win." His voice gained confidence. "And international - it's a world stage to show him off. The Headmaster kept saying it would bring friendship."

"Yes," Severus said finally. "Two of the world's best magical schools, filled with the best and brightest. Invaluable friends, ones that never entered the first war."

Harry glanced at the fire.

 _Blood scattered across the snow in the forest... a hiss, echoing in the darkness. A man's scream._

"He thinks You Know Who is going to return," whispered Harry. He looked back up, calm in realization. "You said this summer. That's too quick - it's a huge event, even the World Cup takes over a year to plan. Something's happening. It's no longer a chance in the future, there's something changing in the air. They said Potter's uncle died over the summer. Something - it's all connected, isn't it?"

The only revelation came in what went unsaid. "It's late," Severus said blandly. "I expect you Thursdays after dinner. My office. It's not unusual for me to tutor my Slytherins. I trust you'll come up with the appropriate excuse."

* * *

"Hermione?" Tracey knocked on the door nervously, twisting her hands. The older witch had disappeared without a word after the feast, just like Draco and Harry. She raised her hand to knock again when the door opened unexpectedly.

"Oh, hi Tracey." Fia offered a small smile as she peaked around the doorway. She looked happy, Tracey noted subconsciously.

"Just let her in," Hermione said miserably from inside the room.

Tracey stepped around the door nervously, her eyes taking a second to adjust to the muted light in Hermione's bedroom. Hermione herself was sitting in front of a desk, a mirror set up behind it.

"Hi guys," Tracey said, her voice quiet, continuing when the other two girls didn't respond. "I just - um - Hermione, I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

"Thanks," Hermione whispered, her voice obviously raw. "I, um -" She stood up and turned around. "Well," she said awkwardly, not meeting Tracey's eyes. "You can see it."

Tracey bit back her original response, not wanting to push the witch further with any teasing. Fia stepped forward and held Hermione's hand comfortingly. "We -"

Hermione glanced up, the light catching her face just so. Tracey's words died on her tongue. The changes that had been only hints hours ago had bloomed and spread, making almost an entirely new face.

"When did it start?" she asked finally, keeping her voice as direct as possible.

Hermione gave Fia's hand a squeeze, and sat back onto the bed. "This summer," she said, her voice halting. "I, um - not after Hogwarts. I was with my parents, and I..."

"You saw him," Tracey said, when Hermione's voice died. But she kept her tone calm and collected.

"It was just that one meeting," Hermione pleaded, the words rushing out. "All we did was talk - just that once, but when I went back home..."

"Yeah," Tracey said, looking at her friend. "Did anything happen today?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "After the meeting, I stopped writing him. He tried to write again... he was too nice about it. He said he understood, he understood if I didn't want to talk to them, that I had parents who raised me and loved me and -"

"Oh, _Hermione_." Tracey offered her friend a hug. "It's going to be okay," she said quietly, her voice muffled by Hermione's hair. "It's going to be okay," she repeated. Hermione squeezed her and pulled back.

"I was hoping you'd think it was the haircut," she admitted with a nervous laugh, wiping some of the tears off her face.

"Please," Tracey said, rolling her eyes. "I like to think I know you better than that."

"Though it does look good on you," Fia added.

"I thought you hated me," Hermione said quietly, looking up.

"I thought you hated me too," Tracey admitted. "I wanted to write, but... after what I said -"

Hermione reached for her hand and squeezed it. "No," she said. "Never. Just - just a bit upset."

"Well," Fia said, after the silence fell. "I was trying to help her so it wasn't so obvious, but I think there's a glamour tied into the magical restrictions they placed on her so she wouldn't be found - the ones restricting the familial magic signature," she added, at the look on Tracey's face. "My father taught me how to recognize it. I'm not sure why they didn't just do away with them -"

"They gave her to muggles," Tracey said calmly, a burst of happiness secretly swelling inside her at finally being able to be useful. "It would have usually happened only if they put her with a magical family, with their magic adopting her, which they couldn't because they'd recognize the signature, or if..."

"If I wanted to be part of the family," Hermione said, her mouth twisting oddly. "Yeah, I remember you saying something like that last year, but I didn't have access to any books this summer -"

"So really hell for you," Fia mused, getting a laugh out of Hermione.

"Something like that," Hermione said. "So." She took a deep breath. "What do I do? I look - I look almost completely different."

Tracey took a step back, considering her friend's face. "Not completely different," she said finally, consulting with Fia with a look. "It's... well, your hair is mostly similar. Just darker," she revised. "Could be worse. Red would be hard to explain."

Fia snorted at the thought.

"The hair cut helps hide some of it," Tracey assured her friend. "What about make up? Like heavy make up -"

"I looked like a clown," Hermione admitted. "Wasn't very good. I asked mum to help, but she - she was a bit busy." Her voice caught at the end. "Anyways."

"Let me go get some of mine," Tracey told her, keeping her voice light. "I can show you some of the stuff I use. You'll look good, we'll just keep it a bit exaggerated -"

"Heavy eyeliner could do it," Fia mused. "With some mascara. That's a popular look now, and if she changes her wardrobe a bit that'd help explain any changes. And Ginny and I were practicing with make up all summer, so it'll be great."

"Yeah," Tracey said with a grin, starting to get excited. "It'll be fun. Don't worry Hermione, you're going to look awesome."

"I feel like I should be afraid," Hermione teased.

"Nah, never," Fia said, nearly mowing over Tracey as she ran out of the room to grab her makeup.

"Tracey?" Hermione asked quietly, before she could follow.

"Yeah?" Tracey turned back.

"Can I borrow your owl to send a letter tomorrow?" Hermione asked, her voice nervous.

"Of course!" Tracey didn't even hesitate.

"Thank you," the older witch said gratefully. "I, um - I just wanted to write to... while, it doesn't really make a difference now. Not if the changes are going to happen anyways."

Tracey offered her a smile. "It's going to be okay, you know. Whatever happens. You've got a lot of people who love you."

"Yeah," Hermione said, a smile starting to blossom on her face. "I think I do."


	18. Puzzles the will

"Puzzles the will"

By the time the clock ticked past the ten minute mark, the gossip was reaching the absurd.

"Maybe he's a vampire." Weasley's usual whine echoed across the room. "Or a werewolf -"

"Don't be ridiculous," Potter said sharply.

Next to Harry, Tracey and Draco shared a look. None of the other students seemed to notice though, and the speculation continued.

" _I_ heard Lockheart's coming back - didn't you hear, he's been in Egypt battling mummies -"

"They got one of the top aurors - Moody, though mother said he's crazy -"

" - it's what's-his-name - that strange one, who was living in the Himalayas for like 20 years -"

The door opened with a slight groan.

"My apologies for running late." The man closed the door softly behind him. With the room silent, each step was a loud _clack_ against the stone.

Something about his tone cut through any thought of an errant whisper. The room was filled with the sound of books and bags being shuffled around, but just as soon the silence fell back again. Harry glanced up briefly. The new professor was short, with white hair that framed a sharp and unforgiving face. Despite his stature, there was something about his presence that made Harry's blood chill.

"My name is Professor Bartholomew Crouch." His voice was a crisp order. "Open your books to page thirty-five and we'll begin."

As Harry looked down to open his book, he noticed Draco freeze out of the corner of his eye.

The Slytherin had gone white.

* * *

A cold rain fell across the hills, breaking up the mist of the early October evening.

 _A hiss. "What of the boy?"_

"Is everything alright, Harry?" Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. "Come on," she added, her voice growing anxious. "Everyone's going in."

"Yeah." But he wasn't particularly convincing, even to himself. Shaking off the rements of his dream, he turned back to the other Slytherins. "Durmstrang's entrance was neat," he said, a bit awkwardly.

Hermione looked at him strangely, and Harry had a sudden feeling he'd missed something important. It was a familiar feeling these days. She shrugged. "I guess." They started to follow the long train of students back up to the castle. "What do you think of the new teacher?"

"Crouch?" Harry's eyes flicked to Draco unconsciously. "A bit harsh, I guess. Nothing special though.

He's a bit boring for a Defense teacher." Tracey yawned. "What a pity. I'd gotten used to the professor trying to kill us -"

"Oh, Crouch would, don't worry. He was the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department during the war. I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned it by now, though I suppose it is a bit embarrassing he got demoted after..."

"That's where I've heard his name before!" The castle loomed closer ahead of them as they neared the doorway. Tracey brushed off the rain from her cloak. "He was pretty successful -"

"That depends what you mean by success." The blonde wizard's voice went flat. "Come on. We should hurry up, or we won't get a seat - Professor Snape said the students from Durmstrang were going to sit with us."

* * *

The ceiling creaked again just as he was finally nodding off.

With a silent groan, Harry threw the sheets off of him and slipped off the bed, his steps silent on the cold floor.

It wasn't like there was a reason for him to be up tossing and turning. There was nothing special - well, it was the last night before the champions would be chosen, but that didn't apply to him. Well. If he was going to be up, he could at least do something useful. The Charms essay could use some more work. A shiver of deja vu washed over him; a lost memory of training with Tom... but he squashed the abrupt pain.

As he pulled out a sweater from the trunk, something fell out of the pile of messy clothing.

Harry picked up the old piece of parchment, turning it over in his hands. _Ginny must have left it by accident the other night_. He was about to put it back, to save until the next time Ginny stopped by with Fia, when curiosity suddenly struck him.

A tap of his wand revealed secrets that'd be lost by the next morning. Some souls were still awake... on the third floor, two sets of feet ran across the hall, away from some unseen terror. It must have been a ghost or Peeves, since Snape and Crouch -

No. That wasn't right.

Footsteps walked around the first floor stairwell. Above them... they were labeled as Crouch.

Something washed over Harry, that chill that had struck in class that first day. Before he knew it, he'd dressed and left the dormitories.

Maybe it was the hour of the night, or maybe just the darkness spreading, but for whatever reason it didn't seem as bad of an idea as it usually would. The invisibility came as quick to him as smoke to fire now, and it made him bold.

But when he reached the first floor, there was no one there.

A sudden realization washed over him - how stupid could he be? From what Draco had said, Crouch had been the Ministry's top auror... he could be anywhere, laying in wait -

Something dropped in his stomach as he realized that, in his sleep-addled state, he'd left the map in his room.

... but nothing accounted for the fact that he'd seen two names. He hadn't been dreaming, it'd been right there, written out in the black of the ink. There wasn't a way for a person to be in two places at once -

"Mr. Steward. Please do not tell me you've snuck out of the dormitories... _again_."

Harry didn't need to turn around to know his head of house was displeased.

"In the future, please do remember that I am able to tell when you've left the dormitory after hours," Severus drawled. Somehow, his eyes zeroed in just on where Harry was. "In place of taking points, you'll serve detention tomorrow. My classroom, 7 pm."

Harry didn't attempt to challenge the detention; Severus was fair, but didn't play favorites. "Professor..."

Severus raised an eyebrow. Harry couldn't find the words... he wasn't even sure which words to use.

"Harry." His professor looked at him without blinking. "It's not a good time to be caught wandering the halls after hours." He looked up the stairwell. "Now I suggest you go back to your room, before Professor Crouch comes downstairs."

* * *

"Toast?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Hermione blinked, trying to shake herself awake. _Yeah, sure? God, I sound like an idiot_... Across the table, the gruff... and very, _very_ attractive Viktor Krum held the platter up for her. "Thanks."

"Ov course." But she'd blown it - the second he passed over the toast, he ducked his head back down to talk to Tracey. A faint spurt of jealousy shot through Hermione before she could stop it - it wasn't even like he knew her name, and all the guys liked to talk to Tracey... but still.

She shook it off. It was silly, and Tracey was her friend, and if the really cute guy from Durmstrang wanted to talk to her and not to Hermione - _okay, you need to stop it._

"Hey Harry!" She tried to keep her voice light as her friend came in late for breakfast. "Are you ready for the exam...?" Her voice trailed off as Harry yawned, the dark shadows under his eyes prominent under the light of day. "Did you sleep alright?" Hermione kept her voice quiet.

Harry yawned again and poured himself some juice. "Do I look that bad?" He looked up. "I'm joking," Harry informed her, his voice lightening up. "Yeah, I didn't sleep that much last night. But - actually, I could get your advice on -"

Whatever Harry was about to say was drowned out as the hall fell silent. Hermione glanced up; Dumbledore had risen from his seat.

 _Oh, right, the Champions_ , she thought absentmindedly.

Dumbledore started to give some speech about the importance of interregional unity or something or other, but Hermione's mind wandered off... what was it about the brooding Bulgarian that drew her curiosity so much? The other Durmstrang students were chatterboxes, but he was silent - surprisingly silent, given his presence was so loud...

"... VIKTOR KRUM!"

Hermione felt her heart stop for a painful moment before she realized it was Dumbledore announcing the champion and _not_ revealing her most secret thoughts to the entire school. But her cheeks still burned from the thought of the embarrassment as the table around her erupted.

"Congratulations," she said shyly, looking up at the tall boy as he stood up. He couldn't have possibly heard her - his classmates were screaming in her ears - but then he almost smiled.

"Thank you." He ducked his head, and before she knew it, Krum was gone, making his way to the head of the room.

Her heart stopped with a flutter, and she nearly missed Dumbledore's next announcement.

"And the champion from Hogwarts is... Charles Potter!"

* * *

The day of the first task arrived with a cold, thin rain that made the morning uncomfortably chilly. Harry wrapped his cloak around him tighter, but it didn't do much to stop the weather. As they made their way into the stands, he looked around. They were sitting with Slytherin house and the Durmstrang students with banners for Krum. Across the section was Beauxbotoms, waving light blue and gold. Yet the rest of the Hogwarts students were unusually muted, deliberately shying away from the lepers of Gryffindor.

Tracey followed his gaze as she bundled herself tighter into the seat. "I heard the Puffs are still sour their Head Boy didn't get chosen," she scoffed. "Who ever thought we'd see the day when Potter wasn't popular?"

"Yeah," Harry said, but he wasn't really listening. "How do you think he did it?" he asked abruptly.

"Are you guys talking about Potter again?" Hermione slipped in next to Tracey. "Some of the Ravenclaws are going to heckle him. They're really upset he managed to break the barrier around the goblet."

"I mean, we're clearly all ignoring the lion in the room." Tracey turned back to face Harry. "The Weasley twins tried and failed to get across the age line, and they had the best shot. If they couldn't do it, there's no way Potter would have been able to. Dumbledore probably put his name in. It wouldn't surprise me."

Hermione's eyes shot up, and looked at Harry a little guiltily. Tracey caught her immediately. "What are you guys not telling me?"

It was Harry's turn to deflect. "It's not important."

"Good, so you can tell me."

Hermione bit her lip. "... Harry said he thought Crouch was lurking around the Great Hall the last night they could put names in?"

Tracey raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. One of those things you can't tell me how you know?" When no one contradicted her, she rolled her eyes. "Fine. Keep your super secret secrets. Why is that odd? Teachers do rounds throughout the night, everyone knows that."

"But not in two places at once." As if drawn by an invisible force, Harry looked to the teachers' box. Crouch wasn't there. "He was upstairs at the same time. At least... I think he was."

Tracy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I mean, there are ways to be in two places at once. Not particularly legal ways... but he did work for the Ministry. And I suppose it'd follow the pattern of our Defense teachers... well, you know."

"Did you ever hear about Crouch growing up?" Hermione followed Harry's gaze. "I tried reading up on him in the library, but for some reason there's no books on more recent Wizarding history."

"Crouch? Not particularly. I mean, I know he was involved in the war, but no one likes to talk about that time. Didn't you ever notice how we never cover it in History? Just all the old stuff -"

"And how evil He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was," Hermione interjected. Harry frowned, but they couldn't see it. "Though they tell us that all the time in class, anyways. But they never go into detail. It's all just black and white. But Draco seems to know something about Crouch. Why - where is he, anyways?"

"Didn't Draco tell you? Crouch is keeping him in detention again. I think Fia's in there too. After Potter's uncle accused Fia's dad of killing Lupin - "

" _Again_? But that's Fia's dad - there's no reason - _and_ that's the fifth time this month -"

A fierce roar silenced the crowd, and suddenly, flames barreled through the opening in the pit below.

Next to him, Tracey went a little white. "Please don't tell me that's what I think it is..."

Dumbledore rose to speak, but he was cut off as the roar tore through the air again. Out of the hole came one leg, then another, then -

"Oh Merlin," Harry said. "That's -"

The dragon was enormous, each green scale easily the size of a human head. Behind it, someone was trying to pull on its chain, but the beast tore threw them as if they were leaves.

"Are they _insane_?" Hermione's eyes went wide as the dragon began the pace the pit below. The students who'd wanted the best view from the lowest rows shrank back, some fleeing their seats. One chain stood fast though, and yanked the dragon back to the center of the pit.

"You know," Tracey began, and then paused. "Potter might actually end up dead this time."

* * *

Potter didn't end up dead, but only barely escaping getting eaten alive did wonders for his popularity. There was something about near death that made the school - well, most of the students, anyways - immediately dismiss the idea that he'd put his name in the tournament himself. Now there was some absurd rumor flying around that it was a plot to kill off Potter, conveniently helped along by Dumbledore's careful protestations that it would be impossible to take him out of the tournament due to an unbreakable magical contract, and oh, wasn't it just _so_ sad.

Tracey sniffed and threw the newest Daily Prophet into the fire. A carefully aimed shot of Potter running away - "winning", as the caption put it - slowly curled up as the fire began to consume it.

"Hey Hermione," Tracey said absentmindedly, as the older witch came up behind her. By that point most of the students had gone to bed, leaving the common room almost deserted.

"Hi Tracey." She sat down on the arm of the couch carefully, perching herself on the edge as they watched the newspaper disappear. "I - um, I was wondering -"

Tracey pushed the hair out of her face and yawned. "So Krum finally asked you to the Yule Ball?"

Hermione went red. "He - I - _what?_ " she demanded.

"Krum," Tracey repeated. "He asked you? He's been talking about it all fall -"

"He _talked_ about me?" Hermione got flustered quickly. "I - what did he say?"

"Oh, he wasn't really sure how to ask you out." Tracey waved her hand in the air. "Don't worry about it. It was kind of cute actually, one of the world's top Quidditch players so nervous -"

Hermione let loose a very un-Hermione giggle. "Oh." A smile started to bloom on her face. "He was, um, very sweet - but I don't have a dress..."

Tracey frowned. "Please don't tell me you turned him down because you don't have a _dress_. The boy will be devastated."

"No, I said yes, I think -"

"You _think_?"

"It was very awkward! He just asked me, and I wasn't expecting it, and, well, I think I said yes. I kind of nodded and then I said something about class starting because the bell rang, and then he said yes, and then -"

"Oh, Merlin. Fine. But didn't you see they were requiring dress robes on the lists this year?"

Hermione got quiet, and turned back to the fire. "Yeah. I know, but my mum - my, um - well, she said my old dresses would be fine, just to take them out a bit, but they kind of... they don't exactly scream..."

"I'm pretty sure Krum would be happy even if you showed up in a sackcloth and covered in soot," Tracey said dryly, a sliver of sympathy for her friend welling up inside her. "But don't worry. We're going to figure this out. I'd lend you something, but you're a bit - actually..." She paused at the thought that ran through her mind. Hermione glanced back at her.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Why don't you -" Tracey bit her lip, but went with it anyways. "Have you thought about asking - you know - your _mother_?"

Hermione went silent for a moment, turning back to the fire. "I haven't talked to her yet," she finally admitted. "I was - I wasn't sure what'd she'd say. Everyone always talks about how the Blacks - well, the Lestranges, I guess - how they're blood purists and they hate muggles and they're Death Eaters. And I guess..." her voiced trailed off for a moment. " _I_ don't hate muggles. And I'm not... I don't want to be a..."

Tracey frowned. "You - I'm sorry. I know I've said some stuff too." That got a small laugh out of Hermione. "But you have to remember," she continued gently. "They lost - the Light Side won. It is a bit of a biased history what you're getting here. Just look at Draco - at Fia, too, the way they get treated. They haven't done anything. Their - well, yours too - families are said to be the Darkest of the Dark. And they still became friends with you, the supposed muggleborn."

"You're right. I know you're right, and I see the way they - my friends get treated, how Slytherin gets treated, but..."

"But you can't shake the fact that it's somehow the evil side," Tracey answered for her. "I know."

"I thought I'd be able to look past it." The confession spilled from her lips like a flood. "That'd I'd just - I'd see them, and know, and just - they kidnapped me. My parents didn't die, they _wanted_ me. They stole me, they stole my whole _life_ away, and I feel like I should have just seen them and known and loved them... and it wasn't like my mum and dad were that great, anyways." She snorted. "I mean, they weren't awful, but they weren't great. It always felt off, and now I know why. But I don't... What if it doesn't click? What if it still feels off? What if this is just what families are supposed to feel like, and I'm just being an idiot?"

"But that's not how families are supposed to feel like." Tracey looked up at her. "They're - I don't know how to explain it, but it's not that. You're supposed to feel like you belong."

"I guess." Hermione twisted her hand into the fabric of the couch. "But I mean, they weren't abusive. They always provided for me. But - I just, I felt... I felt unwelcome, I guess." She laughed dryly. "Like maybe they had been forced to have me. I always kind of thought that I was an accident... though I didn't quite expect this accident, if you want to call it that."

"Why don't you try writing to her?" Tracey suggested. "Just one letter. It's not a lifelong commitment. I mean - your father didn't pressure you, did he?"

"No," Hermione admitted with a small laugh. "No. He gave me the space. Whatever I wanted." She glanced back at Tracey. "It was almost - it was almost too good."

"Well, if the complaint is that it was too good, that's not a red flag," Tracey pointed out. Hermione laughed again. "Maybe just try. It doesn't have to be a huge deal. You need a dress - maybe just ask her advice on that?"

* * *

Severus leaned back in his chair as the clock ticked past. He frowned. There were the essays to grade and Harry's lesson to prepare for, and if Lucius -

Just as the clock struck eight, the fire went green.

"Lucius." Severus rose smoothly from his desk as the tall wizard stepped out of the fireplace. "I can't talk for long. What's this about? Your letter wasn't the most revealing..."

Lucius dusted off his cloak and frowned. "You were the one who told me to keep it official." He declined the offered chair, instead pacing by the bookcase for a moment before he turned abruptly. "Crouch is harassing my son. I want it stopped."

Severus sighed, and sat down. "You're assuming I have more power here than I do."

"He's harassing you too?" Lucius frowned. "I thought Dumbledore was still vouching for you."

"Of course," Severus said sourly. "Crouch insists on accompanying me on all my patrols. If I step in for Draco, he'll only take it out on him more. Crouch doesn't trust me... and you know his methods. Look at what he did to his own son."

Lucius sighed and walked back towards Severus' desk. "I know. It's what I'm afraid of," he confessed. "How is my niece?"

"Surprisingly upbeat. She and her father have that in common." Severus watched his old friend with a careful eye. "But she's quiet. Barely says a word in public."

"Sirius is going to murder me when he gets out." Lucius began to pace again. "The Weasleys... of all people. They hate us."

"I wouldn't be as worried. They have a daughter her age."

Lucius snorted. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? She's still a Gryffindor."

Severus dropped the subject. "What news do you have of Sirius?"

"Sirius?" Lucius waved his hand in irritation. "He's in Azkaban, same with Rhia. Regulus - all of them - they've gone into hiding. I haven't heard from any of them in months. Probably for the best. After Charlus Potter's accusation, there was no hope of a trial. The Minister was all too happy to take his word. Though from what I've heard from Draco, Crouch thinks we're in league with all of them."

"He's not entirely wrong." Severus considered his words carefully. "Strange, though, that Crouch came here." Lucius glanced over, but didn't take the bait. "Crouch has never done anything without thinking of himself first. And there's not much glory to be had at Hogwarts. One would think he'd be off chasing the Dark Lord."

"One might," Lucius said smoothly. "But I've never pretended to know what goes through Crouch's mind. The man has been made mad by power."

If the wizard was lying, his face didn't give it away. Not that that meant much. Lucius Malfoy was always skilled in the art of deception, and if he'd been ordered to keep secrets... well, that meant things were progressing much faster than Severus had anticipated. His arm twitched reflexively as the mark began to hurt once more.

* * *

Hermione brought the box out from under her bed with a gentle grip, scared she'd - _what, Hermione?_ the voice in her head scolded. _It's a dress. It won't break if you drop it_.

The note was right were she left it, hidden in the tissue paper that draped over the dress. _Mon Cherie_. Her fingers traced over the words gently. It was beautifully laid out, smooth black and white all tied up with a ribbon.

She took a breath to calm herself, and lifted it up.

* * *

"Did you see Hermione?" Tracey asked breathlessly, plopping down into the seat next to Harry and Draco. "The dress is to _die_ for."

"She looks great." But Harry looked past her even as he responded, his eyes drawn to the teachers' table. Crouch's seat - like most times this year - was empty.

"... where's Astoria?" Harry tried to get his mind off Crouch. Defense teachers acting strange was nothing new... though why would Crouch put Potter's name in the Goblet? It wasn't Dumbledore. Dumbledore never did anything directly.

"She went to go get some dessert. Said the dancing was making her feet tired -" Draco's voice pulled him back.

"Do you want to dance?" Harry asked abruptly, turning to Tracey.

"... sure!" Surprise flitted around her face, and a small sense of guilt stabbed him in the gut.

"I meant to say this before," Harry started awkwardly, as he held out his arm for her. Draco had turned back to talk to Astoria, who'd come back to the table. "But you look really nice tonight."

"I know." Tracey grinned at him, a sparkle in her eyes. "Now come on, let's dance."

Hermione let herself get pulled in the gardens, the voices disappearing behind them.

"I think ve have lost them." Krum turned back to her. "I apologize. Sometimes my fans - they can get overzealous -"

"No, no," Hermione said, a lump growing in her throat. "It's not your fault. Weasley's been in love with me since our first year, it's not your fault at all. I'm sorry you got caught up in it."

Krum snorted. "I vould take a punch for you any day." He looked at her more closely. "I apologize that he ruined such a lovely night."

"No, no, don't apologize." Hermione glanced up at his eyes, but then for some reason her gaze was drawn to his mouth. "It's not your fault."

"It is not your fault either, Hermione."

"I know." She found herself smiling. "You finally got my name right -"

Her heart stopped as Viktor kissed her.

Suddenly, she felt him pull away.

"I apologize," he said quietly. "If I - if I overstepped -"

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You - you did not -"

"I've never done this before," Hermione confessed. "You just - I was surprised, that's all."

"Oh," Viktor said.

"Oh," Hermione echoed, her breath catching in her throat. Krum came closer, his hand reaching out to push a whisp of hair off of her face. It was an oddly gentle gesture from such a giant of a boy. "Oh..."

"Ve do not have to do anything you do not vant," Krum promised her, his eyes anxious. "If you vould just like to talk, or valk - I did not mean to make you uncomfortable vith something you do not vant -"

Hermione leaned forward and kissed him.


	19. And makes us rather bear

"And makes us rather bear"

"Miss Weasley, please stay after class."

Ginny felt something in her stomach drop. What did McGonagall have to talk to her about? Did she know Ginny had been sneaking out? Fia had warned her to be careful, but -

"Relax, Miss Weasley. You're not in trouble." McGonagall smiled thinly at her. "This is regarding Mr. Potter's participation in the tournament."

"Okay." Ginny took a deep breath. _Right_. It was already February - the second task was tomorrow, on Valentine's Day of all days - _you don't even have a Valentine_ , a voice in her head pointed out snidely.

"Here." Professor McGonnagall offered up a tray of sweets. "Would you like some toffee?"

Ginny felt her world go black as she bit into the candy.

She tried to swallow reflexively, but her mouth was dry. Why was her mouth dry? Why -

* * *

Water, Her clothes were wet, her hair was soaking -

 _What's going on?_ Panic rose in her chest, panic and pain mixed together as she tried to breathe, just _breathe_ , but her muscles weren't moving, nothing was behaving -

"Give me some room!" Madam Pomfrey's voice shot through her. Why was Madam Pomfrey there...? "Miss Weasley, can you open your eyes?" Someone - Pomfrey? - was gently lifting up her head. "It's going to be okay."

Slowly, _slowly_ , Ginny managed to open her eyes. It was like peeling back a grate, every nerve ending killing her. "There you go." Madam Pomfrey's face came into view, the sunlight behind her hidden by the clouds. "Drink some water - it's just water, nothing else - before you try to speak, Miss Weasley."

The taste was beautiful, the cold liquid running down her throat. "Wha -" she coughed. "What happened?"

"The second task." Madam Pomfrey's frown was hidden as she turned down to Ginny, but her tone remained bright and crisp. "The champions were asked to retrieve those they would most miss from the lake."

"The lake?" Ginny's voice, thankfully, was still dulled from whatever - _the lake? What? How?_

"Yes." Madam Pomfrey's eyes glanced up at her. She seemed displeased. Was she? Ginny didn't know, her mind wouldn't stop spinning.

"Isn't it wonderful, Ginny?" Her mother's voice beamed. _Why is my mother here?_

"Yes," Ginny echoed. "Wonderful."

"Here - let's get her up, she should thank her _champion_ -" Ginny wanted to vomit, why was somebody holding her up? "- properly."

Across from her, students and teachers were moving back and forth. Hermione - Hermione? - Hermione and Krum were quietly talking. The blonde witch from Beuxbottoms - Fleur, yes, that was right, Fleur _,_ was talking to her a girl who looked just like her. Something angry was being said. What? Was she still hallucinating?

Someone thrust a camera at her, the flash going off in her face.

"Kiss for the photo, sweetie." The tone was sickly sweet. _Kiss?_ "We need a kiss between our champion and his sweetheart - oh, what a love story, what romance, what -"

 _Champion_?

He pulled her into him, but it was over - so quickly, it could never have happened, except for the fact that she could _taste_ him, could still barely feel her body -

"Oh dear," her mother said somewhere. "Here - Madam Pomfrey, she's still sick from the lake..."

* * *

"It's cold out," Fia complained. "Let's go back inside."

"In a moment." Harry looked out over the water. Somehow, they'd managed to come back to that spot - but now the water wasn't frozen, and it wasn't night, and there weren't three figures -

 _Four_ , something whispered inside him. But it wasn't night, it was morning.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing. Just trying to figure out what to do for the Charms project." The lie came too easily to him, and Fia didn't notice. "How's Ginny?" he asked suddenly, turning back around, forcibly cutting off the memories behind him. They started to walk back up the hill.

"She's alright, I guess." Now it was Fia's turn to stop as they passed by the Quidditch Pitch. "She wasn't great yesterday. But..." The hedges loomed ominously overhead. "It's only a few more hours." Her voice turned soft, trying to reassure herself. "And they won't repeat tasks. They can't."

"There wasn't anything you could have done," Harry told her.

"Not this time." Fia's voice turned cold for a moment - so short, Harry thought he imagined it. "But - Merlin, she - she's brave, and strong, but who the _fuck_ thought that was fine? And the worst part - the worst part is she can't do a thing. If she says anything, it'll be suspicious. She's supposed to be _happy_ over the whole thing, like some - some puppet. And I wouldn't even know if anything happened... I _didn't_ know anything had happened."

Harry felt an anger rise in him, some strange sort of feeling. But he ignored it - anger wouldn't help right now. He took a deep breath before a thought struck him. "Do you have the map on you? You do know - I mean, you might - it might help to know where she is."

"Oh." Fia blinked, startled. "You're right. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Cause I'm the brains in this operation," Harry teased under his breath. She elbowed him in the stomach.

"... here we go." Her hands shook a little as she opened the map. _Ginny Weasley_ , was the scrawled name. Right at the top of Gryffindor tower.

"She's been staying in the bedrooms." Fia's voice was quiet. "They - in Gryffindor, apparently the boys can't get into the girls' rooms."

Harry nodded, but there was something else that caught his eye. A name, scrawled in the center of the pitch... _Bartholomew Crouch_. He'd seen the second name nearly every night he'd looked at the map.

But he didn't say a word.

"See, they're not going to use her." He kept his voice calm.

No, he didn't want her involved in this. Either of them.

Someone had put Potter's name in the Goblet. Something wasn't right at Hogwarts. And when something wasn't right, it was usually the Defense Professor's fault.

* * *

The castle was empty when he set out. Most of the students had already started to go down to the quidditch pitch, lured by the unknown. The terror of the first task had quickly disappeared from their minds - nothing had happened to them at the second, after all.

After four years, he knew the pathway by heart.

But he didn't know what he would find. What was he looking for? _Why do I even care?_

There was an answer there that he didn't want to think about.

The classroom door was open.

"If my father was here, he'd kill you, you know." The voice froze Harry in his steps. It was sickly sweet; something wrong - something entirely off. "I'd kill you myself, of course, but you're a Slytherin. I suppose that grants you a reprieve." _For now_ went unspoken.

He was invisible... he shouldn't have been able to see - _father?_

 _Use your head for once, Harry_ , Tom's voice whispered, a memory of days long gone.

He turned around. No one was in the classroom, but for some reason - a trick of the light, maybe - his eyes were drawn to the corner behind the desks.

"Hullo." Harry kept his voice calm. "Barty Crouch, I take it?"

Draco always knew more than he should. It hadn't been hard to get the information out of him.

The man didn't answer for a moment, until suddenly the invisibility came down and his form came into view.

"Funny. Most kids your age don't know my name... especially muggleborns." Harry didn't correct him. He was lanky, almost ragged, with a shock of brown hair and an uneven stubble on his face. His tongue flicked in and out like a snake. "That's what happens when you get locked up in Azkaban."

Harry felt a sudden sense of disgust rise in him; the man reminded him altogether too much of Lestrange - that fierce, undying madness, tempered only by the barest grip of sanity... _was that what Sirius would look like, too?_

"You're the one I saw Severus talking too, that night." Barty sounded almost gleeful. "Smart little bugger. Or maybe just stupid. You ruined my plans, you know. I was very upset... but it all worked out. Yes it did."

"Plans?" Harry echoed, his voice hallow. "What... what plans?"

Barty began to walk closer, his eyes flickering up and down as he licked his lips. "He was furious... so furious, when my father figured it out. _Daddy's_ here to protect Potter... as if he can stand in the way of the Dark Lord." He sniffed in contempt.

Harry's mouth went dry, but he held his wand tightly as Barty paused to consider him, his eyes unblinking.

"Not that he knows anything," Barty hissed. "All he saw was my mark, and really, what does that matter? He spends his time torturing children... he's always been a coward, _always_... but you. When the Dark Lord heard some child had stopped me from putting Potter's name in... he was displeased. Though it all worked out in the end. But then..." his voice stopped again and he cocked his head to the side. "Why is the Dark Lord... interested in _you_?"

"I don't know," Harry said, wishing at that moment nothing more than he'd paid more attention in Severus' lessons.

"Liar." Barty spit out the word with a laugh. "Oh, but don't let me stop you," he said mockingly, stepping back to the side. "I just have one _leetle_ message..." he dragged it out, waiting for Harry to break. "Oh, fine, be that way." He rolled his eyes. "I'll get the truth out of you soon enough. Let's not have you miss the grand finale."

"The finale?" Harry looked at him with a measure of horror. " _What finale?_ What did you do?"

"Oh, the one where the champion wins eternal glory and fame, of course." Barty laughed. "Whomever touches the cup first..."

Harry ran out of the room, his heart racing. Behind him, Barty's cruel chuckle echoed through the corridor. Bile rose in his throat; his hands burned, his feet bled, but still he kept running. There was no one there to stop him, no one to stand in his way - they were all outside, and suddenly, that awful hedge was looming straight over him.

His heart was still racing - he didn't have time, he had to go - _go through_.

It cut easily under his wand, the shrubbery breaking into a path into the - maze?

 _Point me_ , he whispered, but something answered. His wand spun, round and round before it settled in his hand. He started forward. This time, the hedge wouldn't be cut, but the paths were simple enough - easy enough -

 _Diffindo_ , he said, and something screamed.

Harry kept going.

The moon was starting to rise, but its light didn't penetrate this deep in. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge... the knowledge that Potter, standing before him, hadn't touched the cup yet.

He glanced to his right. It was there, lifted precariously on top of a rock, the gold gleaming bright.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Potter demanded, raising his wand.

"You can't touch that cup -"

"Oh, and why not?" Potter sneered. "Why should I listen to you?"

"I don't know," Harry answered dumbly. "Just - just trust me, you can't touch that cup -"

Potter scowled at him. "I'm not an idiot."

Harry acted reflexively before his brain even caught up. They sprinted for it at the same time, but Harry, still tired from the race through the castle, couldn't quite make it - and he slipped one second before, his hand reaching out to catch himself, but it slipped, and somehow he started to grab onto the edge of a shirt... and suddenly his world was swept up in a hurricane.


	20. Those ills we have

"Those ills we have"

Harry groaned, but he didn't lift himself up yet. Potter had already gotten up, the idiot.

 _Where am I?_

A familiar voice echoed in the distance.

The ground was hard - grass, it was grass, they were outside... something hot flickered next to him. Something was rising inside him - the air was thick with magic, crying out for him just to reach out and...

He lifted his head up just to glance at it. An ember... something was roaring in the background. Fire. Flames. A bonfire? Two... just in the distance. The grass gleaming in the moonlight. A calm night's breeze, a chill wind sweeping across the hills. And in the flames -

A figure rose in the fire, the darkness swirling around him.

"Oh, _fuck_."

Harry glanced up. Potter was clutching his stomach, looking decidedly ill as he stared at the ritual going on.

Harry thought about suggesting the idiot shut up and not give themselves away, but it was too late. A red light flashed through the air, hitting Potter right in the chest. The Gryffindor's back arched as he flew some feet through the air, twisting slightly before his body landed on the ground with a thud.

For a moment Harry considered the possibility Potter was dead, and found to some surprise that he didn't care - but he was in shock, wasn't he?

"Bring the boy to me."

Harry felt something in his stomach drop. That voice - it was older, somehow, more real -

Hide. No, he didn't want to see this. He slammed his face into the ground, he let his body go limp, they wouldn't see him - he'd be fine -

 _Why not? Isn't this what you've wanted for so long?_

Three sets of footsteps grew closer. They were going to Potter, passing him - and then one paused and changed direction.

Why didn't he just turn himself invisible? He was an idiot, a bloody idiot.

"There's another, my lord. Shall I stun him?" It was Draco's father, Harry realized, something cold washing over him. It was one thing to know he had been a Death Eater... another to know he was one now.

 _Death Eater scum._ That was what they all called Draco at Hogwarts.

Something was said, but it was lost in the background. Malfoy forced him up by the back of his collar, and they were marching suddenly. Did he recognize Harry? He didn't know. He'd never spent much time with the wizard.

Harry refused to open his eyes, and he paid for it with every rock that hit his feet. He would have fallen again if Malfoy hadn't been holding him up. The bonfires were growing closer now, the heat starting to lick his face uncomfortably.

Suddenly, they stopped. Something - Potter? - let out a thud as it was dropped onto the ground next to him unceremoniously.

"Open your eyes." Tom's voice - no, no Tom - thrummed with power, but Harry was stubborn. He didn't want to see it, whatever He had become - this creature, this thing, it couldn't be Tom, because Tom had left -

 _And if Tom had been able to, why hadn't he come back? Tom would have come back for him._ No, Tom would have come back. He promised. He promised never to leave.

" _Look at me._ "

Sometimes in life there were no real choices.

He opened his eyes, slowly drinking in the scene around him. They had left him in front of the bonfires, bigger than any he'd seen before. But the flames were a surprising comfort.

They were thrumming with magic. Harry let himself reach out.

Malfoy was there, just beyond the edges. Six - no, seven, others were there. Only one was visible, dressed in black, with a strange white mask that covered his face. The fire made it hard to see, blurring the line between the real and the extraordinary. Only Malfoy's aura was familiar, but there were others. Parkinson? It felt like Pansy, but it wasn't her.

The fire crackled, the air glimmering in the heat.

The – that call, the magic… it thrummed in the center of it all, reminding him of that odd day in 12 Grimmuald… but the pebble, the stone, whatever it was… it'd lost some of its magic, something in it, that familiar aura of power.

No one from the Black family.

Harry felt oddly - upset? Disappointed?

"Very good, Harry."

Slowly, he turned back to the man in the center of the flames.

He wasn't the monster they'd said he was, but that made it so much worse.

It was Tom - or Tom, older, at least. He was closer to the person he'd seen in the mirror all those years ago... and his magic. Something flared, that familiar connection, that call. He closed his eyes for a moment. Every fibre in his body wanted to answer that call, to let his magic run wild.

"You're here." Harry felt his mouth go dry as he opened his eyes to consider the wizard, pulling away regretfully. "How?"

But He wasn't quite the same. His face was sharper, his skin pale. His eyes glimmered in the darkness, brimming with power.

Human, yes. But not quite.

"It's Beltane, Harry." He stepped forward. "Or have you forgotten everything I taught you?"

"No..." Harry's voice was quiet as he looked back at the circle of Death Eaters, and a shadow passed over Tom's face. He had forgotten, hadn't he? He'd never celebrated them once since that first year.

 _Tom._

Something echoed in response.

"Why..." But he couldn't finish his words. What could he say? He'd never spoken of Tom, not this openly.

"They cannot hear you."

Harry's eyes flew up. "I don't understand. Why is Potter here? Why - _how_? How is this possible?"

"Ah." Tom - the man - studied him. "The result of many years work, aided by my most loyal... and it nearly didn't work. So many years of waiting. My soul, ripped apart. But now, out of the fires, out of sacrifice, I am born anew."

Harry felt the odd whisper of a memory, of the flames roaring higher and higher as a soul was summoned together. A stone exploding with light. A snake curled in the grass. Souls no longer lost, wandering aimlessly through the void.

Something inside of him snapped.

"If you've been planning this all year - _longer_ \- why didn't you even tell me?" Harry demanded. Something in the back of his mind was telling him not to do this - to wait, to ask - but he threw it out. Anger bubbled in his chest, bursting into something bigger. Tom - no, He Who Must Not Be Named - opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. "Why?" he demanded. "Why bring him here - why not tell _me_?"

 _The most dangerous wizard in the world, they'd taught him._

 _Evil. Pure evil._

 _Torturer._

 _Murderer._

 _Monster._

"Tell you what, Harry?" He Who Must Not - no, he couldn't even think of him like that - frowned. "You have always wanted a choice -"

"You left. You left me, you didn't give me a choice -"

"What choice do you want, Harry?" The man gestured with a sweeping hand. "I am reborn, I have returned. This is Beltane, the season of death and of new beginnings. If this is what you wanted, take it."

 _Tom, but not Tom._

Memories ran though him. _Tom, in his head. A voice in the darkness. A father, a savior._

 _A boy, no longer afraid._

But the dreams.

 _Blood in the snow. A woman's cry. A man's scream. The feeling of cold dirt beneath his scales._

He wanted to. His magic wanted to reach out - the flames were intoxicating, the magic thrumming - a call, that familiar call -

 _Is Potter here to die?_

He thought he had spoken the words before Tom's voice echoed in his head.

 _Death must always accompany life._

Next to him, Potter groaned as he began to stir awake.

"No," Harry whispered. He looked between the two, realization sweeping over him. Death. It was just like they had said. _Murderer._ "No, I don't - not like this -"

"Not like what?"

"He's a - no. No. No murder." Something froze within him. He wanted to reach out so badly... but horror swept through him, realization of what was meant to happen here. An image flashed in front of him suddenly. _Blood in the snow._ Potter's blood, Potter's neck sliced open, Potter's eyes staring lifelessly towards him as his skin went pale in death's cold embrace.

 _This is a war, Harry._

"Get out of my _head_." He couldn't - no, Potter was an innocent. Everything they had said about To - about He Who Must Not Be Named - _and wasn't that funny, that he never knew his name_ \- would be true. He was a monster. Evil. Every whisper, every word, every lesson they had been taught in school - it would be true.

 _My name is Lord Voldemort._

 _I go by many names._ Isn't that what Tom had told him? He had heard that name only once before, and now he knew what it truly meant. _Lord Voldemort._ Death. It meant death.

And he had helped Him. He would have helped Him. He would have been a tool, a tool used to help murder innocents, to help murder Potter. Panic swept over him. There were only seconds left - Potter would wake up, only to die at the hands of Tom - but oh, how badly he wanted to run to him, the same child he had been in that cupboard all those years ago.

A voice in his head, a voice that had taught him - what had He taught him?

 _What is my place in this? The Savior of the Light versus the Monster in the Dark..._

He wasn't a part in this story. He wasn't anything except what Tom wanted him to be - and Tom had used him.

 ** _I never used you._**

 _You let me believe. You let me believe that you were my -_

Lord Voldemort stepped forward.

Next to Harry, Potter stood up.

" - fuck - no, fuck, you're dead." Charles Potter, for all his wit and vainglory, began to stutter before he puffed his chest out. "I killed you once, I can kill you again -"

Lord Voldemort raised his hand.

 _Was there any other name? Tom was dead. Tom had never existed -_

 _Tom was a lie._

His magic hummed, trying to escape.

 _No._ Tom's voice echoed in his head.

His eyes met Harry's. Something flashed in them. But he couldn't help him kill, even if he hated Potter, even if the one thing he wanted to do was to run to Tom, to his -

 ** _Get out of my head._**

"Accio cup!"

Lord Voldemort twisted his hand, the purple light flashing through the air just as Harry's hand reached onto the portkey, and they were gone.

* * *

Noise erupted all around them. Harry let the cup fall from his hands - and then they were swarmed, by students, by professors -

But they all went to Potter, shoving him out of the way. He took the chance anyways - there was no good reason he'd be there. The Slytherins were starting to get out of their seats, looking decidedly bored by the whole fuss. He made for their exit, spotting Draco's familiar blonde hair in the crowds.

" _Draco_!" he hissed. His friend jumped, startled.

"I could have sworn I just heard Harry's voice..." Draco said in bewilderment, looking between the students. Hermione and Tracey came up next to him. "Where is he, anyways?"

"Who knows." Tracey yawned. "Let's go. If we hurry, we can stop by the kitchens before someone enforces curfew."

Harry held up his hands, frowning as the realization hit him. Students squeezed by him, ignoring the odd barrier in the messy crowd.

He snorted. It didn't matter, Tom - no, Lord Voldemort - hadn't done it for him.

 _Then why use that spell, of anything he could have done?_

Harry ignored the voice in his head as he made his way out, but something clenched tightly in his chest.

* * *

As usual, he had escaped unnoticed. Whatever story Potter told, it hadn't included him. But Harry's throat tightened. The rumors had flown across Hogwarts like wildfire - they'd done the investigation immediately, and the discovery of a Death Eater within Hogwarts' own walls, trying to kill the Boy-Who-Lived... well, there had only been one solution.

"Smith, right?" Harry's head jerked up. The pit in his stomach didn't disappear. It was almost time for dinner, but he had no appetite.

Potter leaned against the bookcase with what could possibly pass as a smile in Stalinist Russia. "Charles," he said, as if doing Harry a favor. Thankfully, he didn't offer his hand.

"Harry."

"Ah." Potter stood there, but he didn't stay quiet for long. "I've come to give my thanks."

"Thanks?" Harry repeated dumbly.

"For trying to rescue me." Potter laughed in amusement. "It must have been terrifying to see You Know Who... I understand, of course, why you made the decision you did." He smirked. "I appreciate you coming to my aid, even if it was unnecessary. Rest assured, I won't soon forget it. We Potters always pay our debts."

Harry's eye twitched at the start. Potter turned to leave, but then he turned back. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

He looked at Harry curiously. "What was Crouch like, anyways?"

Harry took a breath. "Mad," he said truthfully. "Boastful. About his lord - about their plans, how he put your name in the Goblet -"

"Oh, he didn't put my name in the Goblet," Charles said dismissively, losing interest immediately. "I did."

Shock ran through Harry. He tried to remember what had happened that day - it felt like a lifetime ago. "I thought - I though Crouch had put your name in..."

Potter looked surprised. "Crouch? No, I put my name in." He actually smiled. "I'm the Chosen One. Who else could have represented Hogwarts?"

"Oh." Harry went numb. "But... the Kiss -"

"What?" Potter snorted. "He was a Death Eater, it wasn't like he was innocent. I'm sure he did something wrong. He did enchant the cup to be a portkey."

Harry's mouth went dry. He wanted to throw up. "You haven't heard, have you?"

Charles' eyes narrowed. "Heard what?" he demanded. "I just got out of the Hospital Wing."

"They didn't perform the Kiss on Crouch's son," Harry said quietly. "He escaped. But when the Minister took the dementors to Crouch's office - they - well. Crouch, he - they Kissed him."

"They'll catch him soon enough then." Potter shrugged. "It's Crouch's own fault, for letting his son out of Azkaban. Anyways." He wiped some dust off his robe. He was all dressed up, Harry noticed suddenly. "We'll be making the announcement at the dinner." He mistook the look on Harry's face for confusion. "That You Know Who is back? Don't worry," he added. "Fame can be difficult, so I thought it best not to mention your name in all of it. You'll thank me later."

Harry watched him leave for the End-of-Year feast, losing any desire to say goodbye to anyone.

What did it matter, anyways?

He wanted to run. He wanted to run far away, away from this whole damned place.

 _Let it burn._ He just wanted to be free.

 _That **was** what he wanted, wasn't it? _

Something sank inside him, a panic, a fear.

A deathly feeling that somewhere, somehow, he had made the wrong choice.

And he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know how to fix any of it.

What was right? What was wrong? He had no one to tell him, no one to show him the way - panic rose in his throat, seizing his breath - what side was he meant to choose? How could he choose, when he knew nothing of what they stood for? They were all liars, all thieves, all murderers - there was no one he could turn to, no one he could trust - a fear rose in him, a sudden knowledge of how little he knew, how small he was, in a game eons bigger than he could imagine.

 _Tom._

The call came unbidden to his mind, but it didn't matter. There was no one there to answer it.

Not anymore.


	21. Than fly to others

"Than fly to others"

August 1995

He was on the ramparts, the salt wind whipping through the night's air. The ruins of the castle spread out beneath him through the hills.

They never went inside.

Tom - the Dark Lord, he'd heard them call him, and it fit - was watching him. He never said a word. The Dark Lord's eyes bore into him. Why didn't He say anything? Why wouldn't He say anything?

They were on a different side of the castle this time, he noticed. Why?

But no one ever bothered them. No one else ever came out.

They were alone.

Harry stared out, watching the howling water beat against the jagged rocks. A spray of water flew up, the drops hitting his hand.

He reached out instinctively. The Dark Lord's magic was there. There was a wild air about it, an intoxicating call. But controlled. Dangerous. A danger he hadn't seen before, hadn't recognized as a child. He pulled himself away.

There were others in the castle. But their magic was tamed, muzzled like dogs. He felt sorry for them for a moment.

What did his magic feel like?

The Dark Lord wanted to answer, he could tell. Why wouldn't he?

He had the odd feeling the Dark Lord was waiting. But for what, he didn't know.

Harry stared at the ceiling as he woke, the question still burning in his mind.

* * *

Harry threw the pebble across the grass. Above the garden, crows circled; one dived, picking at the pebble as it landed. Something echoed in his mind, but he ignored the tug, just as he'd done all summer.

But he couldn't stop the dreams each night.

He had an odd memory, of standing in a garden just like this one on a hazy summer day. The watchers had been watching them. His mother and Sirius had been talking. What had they said? He couldn't remember.

Tom had been in his head then.

The sun beat down, the cold heat burning his skin.

He'd begun his training again. The guilt from his admittance that he'd forgotten still bit at him.

 _The Dark Lord had been pleased at that, he could feel it._

He could still taste the wind on his tongue when he woke up that morning.

 _Stay out of my head_ , he begged. He didn't know who he was speaking to. Himself? The Dark Lord?

What did he want? Trust. Someone, anyone, he could trust.

His 'd hugged him, the last time she'd seen him. He could still see her dark hair.

His father. He could trust his father, couldn't he?

 _Where were they?_

Who was right? Was it just a question of how many they bodies lined up? Or did each death count differently?

If so, who was responsible for Crouch's death?

Potter had waved it away. But he didn't know what he was saying, did he?

The call echoed again through his mind. He pushed it away halfheartedly.

The patio door slid open behind him. "Harry, we'd better get going." Aunt Petunia paused behind him. "Those crows just won't leave the house alone," she said uneasily.

"They're harmless." Harry got up slowly, wiping the dirt off his jeans. He shook his left leg awake.

"They may be watching your friends' owls." Aunt Petunia turned to go inside with him. "With the - the unrest you mentioned. That happened sometimes, when your mother was in school."

For a second, he considered asking his aunt about his mother. But she didn't know anything, and the subject pained her. Whoever had left him at her house had left him there without a word or a warning.

"Hermione's still in the muggle world."

"Still."

The train ride into London was uneventful. "You really didn't need to come," Harry protested, as they neared the entrance to Diagon Alley. "I didn't mean to make you take the day off -"

"And I told you not to worry about it," his aunt countered. "Besides, I already had the day off from the office, and I don't need to be at the pub until this evening."

Harry held his wand to the stones, repeating the pattern Sirius had taught him.

"Gringotts first?" Aunt Petunia sounded calm, but Harry could tell she was a little overwhelmed by the deafening crowds. He drew closer to her as they made their way down to the grand marble building. " It's a lot... livelier than it used to be."

Harry tensed up as well. He'd expected - well, he didn't expect this. The shops were just as bustling as normal; everywhere, witches and wizards passed by with smiles. Just a few months ago Dumbledore and Charles Potter had stood up and announced the return of the Dark Lord. On the train back to London, mild chaos had ensured at the words - but here, now, there was none of that chaos.

He glanced at one of the bookstores as they walked through. "Charles Potter: Brat Who Lived" screamed the bright cover of a fresh pile of books.

"Huh."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." Harry followed his aunt into the bank, their footsteps echoing on the hard marble floor.

"I'd like to change some pounds into galleons, please," she asked the teller. "No, Harry, don't worry, I have this." She waved him off.

"Name?"

"Petunia." The goblin raised an eyebrow. Harry glanced up, distracted by a flash of red behind the tellers - was that Ginny? But it wasn't, though the older boy looked like one of her brothers. He could have sworn the boy had been staring at him... By the time he looked back up, his aunt had finished.

Behind them, someone was starting to yell. "Come along," she said, her voice crisp. "Better get going."

* * *

"Please sit down, Mr. Potter." The goblin walked over to the door and closed it. He sighed. It'd been nice to have a breeze in the stuffy office.

James Potter smiled sheepishly. "You know, it really just slipped my mind. It's been a while."

"Of course, Lord Potter... but please understand, procedure must be followed."

The petulant child was still standing up. Ignoring him, Bogrod took his space up behind the desk.

"I will _not_ be made to wait around like a - like a - like some _nobody_ ," the child sneered. "This is all about those silly -"

"No, the goblin is right, Charles," his father said, trying to calm him down. "It's my fault, I should have remembered. Mister - what was your name again?"

Bogrod just glared at him.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Potter said with a winning smile, completely unperturbed. "Charles is right, having to wait to complete such a simple ritual is a bit of a hassle -"

"Naming someone as the heir to the lordship is not a simple ritual, Lord Potter," Bogrod said, cutting him off. "It is a lengthy ritual - there are steps that must be followed, and preparations to be made. We are more than willing to take the steps to complete it later today -"

"Where's your manager?" the child demanded imperiously. "This is absurd and insulting. I'm my dad's only son, I should be his heir."

Next to him, Potter shifted uncomfortably.

"Not available."

"Charles -"

Bogrod smiled thinly as the boy stormed out of his office, followed by his father.

* * *

"Why were you sitting with the sixth years at the feast last night?" Hermione slid into the seat next to him as the other Slytherins began to file into Defense.

Harry didn't look up from the book. "Came in late. Just took the empty seat."

"I mean, we would have made room." She started to take out her summer homework. "It's really not that big of a deal."

"No," Harry said shortly. "It's not."

"Harry -"

"Funny how you want to talk now." Harry cut her off as he closed the book and put it back in his bag. "I mean, there was all summer, but I'm sure you weren't free to write one measly -"

"I did write you," Hermione protested. "I sent you three letters - didn't you get them?"

Harry snorted. "What are you suggesting, that the letters got lost in the mail?"

"Of course not." Hermione looked at him in surprise. "I sent them by owl. I figured you just didn't want to talk -"

He rolled his eyes. "I did. But whatever."

"Harry - I really did try." She bit her lip. "I'm really sorry, but I seriously did try."

"Whatever."

"Harry -"

"Look," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Let's just move on. It's not a big deal."

"I mean, it kind of clearly is," Hermione said with a frown. "I wasn't ignoring -"

"Oh don't worry," Harry said shortly. "It wasn't just you."

"Harry - oh, for fuck's sake." Harry looked up at his friend in surprise. "Tracey was in China the entire summer for her dad's job, she told us that last spring, remember? And Draco -" her voice dropped to a whisper. " _Draco_ is basically under house arrest with his family, you know that. So quit being an ass. I'm sorry my letters got lost, but it's not like you were sending me any yourself."

Harry bit his lip. "Oh. Right."

"Oh. Right. _Yeah_." Hermione rolled her eyes, her voice tart.

"... I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed. "I mean, just think things through next time, will you? And remember you have friends. You could talk to us about what's bothering you - not the letters, I mean whatever happened last spring..."

"It's nothing -"

"We'll talk about nothing later than." Hermione opened her book as the door to the new professor's office opened and the bell rang.

In front of them, Daphne turned around, twisting in her seat. "Guys," she said urgently. "Say 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge'."

" _What_?" Harry hissed in confusion next to her.

"Just say it," Daphne said urgently. "Blaise said Pansy told him that Tracey got some info from the third years. Pass it on."

Delicately, the witch made her way down the spiraling staircase, her hand perched innocently on the railing. But as she came down to her desk, Hermione found a shiver run through her. The new professor was a sight in a horrendous mixture of pinks, her hair carefully done in curls more suited to a five year old. The entire thing reminded Hermione much more of a child than an adult, a combination just so entirely wrong that it nearly made her retch.

"Ahem." Her sickly sweet voice was just altogether worse, but Hermione caught herself before she missed Daphne's advice.

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," the Slytherins said in unison.

The Gryffindors' half of the room echoed in silence.

Professor Umbridge frowned with a smile.

"In the future, children," she said, walking slowly until she was in front of Lavender Brown's desk, "you will say, 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge'."

Someone - Weasley - whispered something. Potter sniggered loudly.

The room fell quiet. Hermione winced.

"Discipline is the most important skill you will learn in this class," Umbridge said slowly, tracing a desk with her hand. "Second, perhaps, is respect. I understand this is a concept many of you are unfamiliar with."

She came to a stop in front of Potter and Weasley's desk.

"And what are your names?"

Potter looked up at her in shock.

"... Potter?" he said with a sneer. Weasley tried to hold in a laugh, but failed.

"Your names." Professor Umbridge beamed.

Weasley gulped. "Ron - Ronald Weasley."

"Charles." Potter scowled. "Charles Potter."

"Ronald Weasley and Charles Potter. Very good." Professor Umbridge seemed to turn the words over in her mouth. "Detention, I think. 7 pm."

Potter's mouth dropped. "You can't -"

"Tomorrow as well." Umbridge smiled sweetly. "Is that all?"

The Gryffindor shut up, something dark passing over his face.


	22. That we know not of

"That we know not of"

"I told you to get out of my head."

Tom - no, the Dark Lord, Harry reminded himself - looked up from his desk.

Harry glanced around, taking a moment to adjust himself. They were in some sort of library. The little light there was came from pale shadows cast by the flickering fire. Rows of bookcases lined the long room as they receded into the darkness. Outside the grand windows the moon shone silently, sometimes disappearing into the clouds. The sky was still the same, even insde.

"Then I suggest you learn to block your mind," the Dark Lord said quietly, leaning back into his chair as he studied Harry. "This is your dream, not mine."

 _As always._

Harry scowled. The Dark Lord smiled back, his eyes glinting with amusement.

The clock ticked by, each chime a scream in the silence.

Harry broke first. "What are you doing?"

"Preparations." The Dark Lord shrugged. "Your mind control has improved. Who is teaching you?"

"Sirius did. Before he was locked up."

"Was he the only one?" The Dark Lord's eyes followed Harry as he began to pace the room.

"You already know who."

"Of course, but I'd like you to tell me anyways."

Harry turned back to him. "Why? So you can kill him?"

The Dark Lord looked at him in confusion. "Why would I kill Severus? He was protecting you." Before Harry could answer, he continued. "Though you might remind him I abhor rudeness... and the next time he refuses to answer my call, I will punish him."

"Oh," Harry said quietly, the realization of what Severus was doing for him sinking in. "I didn't -"

"Don't worry yourself," the Dark Lord said. "I won't punish him on account of you."

Harry swallowed nervously. "Why?" he asked suddenly. "Why are you still - why - what do you mean? I know the truth." He found himself babbling. "I - that you're Lord Voldemort. That you - you're the _Dark Lord_. Why..."

Harry took a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me? Any of it? Why did you pick me?"

The Dark Lord didn't respond immediately. "You were a child," he said finally, his dark eyes following Harry. "I would have told you. I had been planning on it. But you deserved a childhood... not all of this." His voice fell quiet. "Unfortunately, in my efforts to protect you, I took that away from you."

Harry looked at him, pushing down the feelings that threatened to swallow him whole. _Since when did the Dark Lord care about a childhood?_ "What happened to my mother?"

"I don't know." The Dark Lord looked at him with - Harry didn't understand it. "She found me in the forests of Albania. But she disappeared."

"I had a dream," Harry found himself confessing slowly. "I..." The Dark Lord gestured to one of the seats in front of his desk. Harry sat down warily. Some of the papers caught his eye - diagrams and runes he didn't understand. He looked back up, but the Dark Lord didn't make any effort to hide them. "Dreams," he amended. "Of a forest. There was blood on the snow, a man's voice. And a snake. The snake was telling someone to run."

The Dark Lord's eyes flew to him. "You understood it?"

"Yes," Harry said in confusion. "I always have, remember?"

The Dark Lord's face was unreadable.

"It's getting late," Harry said slowly. "I should go. I - I don't -"

Sometimes there were downsides to someone knowing your mind better than you yourself did.

"You were like a son to me once." The Dark Lord never blinked. "Would you give that all up now - for what?"

Harry shook his head. "You - I -"

"I did not leave by choice, Harry."

He frowned. "I know, but - you didn't come back. Everything - everyone - they put Sirius in Azkaban, they took Fia - they took _Hermione._ Was that your plan? To let everyone suffer? That isn't protecting anyone."

The Dark Lord didn't answer for a moment.

"Is that what would make you happy?" His face was unreadable. "To have Lord Black back?"

"Yes. No. I mean -" Harry shook his head. "I don't - just... yes. I wish it could go back to the way it was," he confessed. "When everything was..." _Perfect?_ But perfect wasn't the right word, he realized, with everything he knew now. What was perfect? They were happy, but it was a shallow happiness, in their hidden little world. He had knowledge now, but - but it wasn't enough. How did he know what to trust? He shouldn't even be here.

But he didn't have a chance to fix his words before he suddenly woke up in his bed.

* * *

Severus considered the boy in front of him. Harry was quieter than usual, even more so than he'd been in September. He wouldn't meet Severus' eyes, instead studiously staring at the little weather globe on his mantel. As pretty as the snow inside of it was, Severus didn't think it was what really was on Harry's mind. But it couldn't be the Dark Lord - he'd already answered the summons, and Harry hadn't said a word about it again. If only he could know what was going on in the boy's mind. Harry had retreated into himself for over a year now.

Ever since Sirius had been arrested. Ever since Lily had disappeared.

 _Lily, I've failed you._ If only he could take Harry out of the country and away from it all - but there was no choice. He let the emotions sweep past him. No sense in brooding on it now.

"Go back to your dorm."

"What?" Harry's eyes shot up, his face filled with confusion.

"Go back to your dorm," Severus repeated. He stood from where he'd been leaning against his desk, turning around to sit back down. "Leave. You're not focused right now, and we're not getting anywhere."

"But I -" Harry paused, and cocked his head. "No. I can do this."

"Can and want are two different things," Severus pointed out dryly. "No one ever questioned your ability."

Harry's eyes hardened at that. "I want to do this," he said, a little more conviction in his voice. Severus felt mild guilt rise up for using the boy's weak points against himself, but he brushed it aside. He couldn't coddle the boy forever, no matter how much he owed to Lily - no, he amended, _because I owe it to Lily to protect him._

Severus stared at his student. "Fine." He kept his tone curt, refusing to yield even an inch. "Let us proceed." He walked back to the space he'd cleared for the two of them in the center of his study, the furniture carefully moved to the side. With a flick of his arm, his wand was raised to the defensive stance of a duelist. Harry mirrored his stance, but he lacked the ease of experience. His pose was too stiff - Severus made a note to talk to him later about it -

"Now, as if I were -"

The red light cut him off, flashing through the air in a long arc. Severus flicked it off easily, but he'd slipped for the first time in years, and suddenly - just as he'd taught Harry in theory - the boy was in his mind.

Severus winced in pain as his student twisted, unsure and panicking of what to do - _Harry, release_ \- he didn't want to throw him out, the damage it could cause -

 _"Mum?"_

Pain shot through him, pain that was and wasn't his.

 _Harry, she's not real_ -

But the memory cut him off, the memory of those three awful boys and their pranks that went to far -

 _"Hey, Evans, look at this_ -"

Someone screamed, and it brought him back to the room.

He was gasping, he realized - he'd nearly fallen down onto one of the chairs. Severus swallowed.

Harry was - no, he calmed himself, Harry was fine. "Sir - I'm sorry -" Harry looked at him with wide eyes and mild terror. "I - I didn't mean - I didn't know what to do..."

Severus took a moment to steady himself, wiping the emotion of seeing Lily from his face. "It's fine, Harry." He look his student in the eye, building back up the barriers of the maze in his own mind. "Very well done. We'll work again on what to do when the attack succeeds."

Harry looked away.

"If you'd like to go back to your dorm now, you may." Severus' tone turned quiet. "You've done quite well tonight."

A shadow passed across the boy's face. "No," Harry said finally. "I'd like to finish the lesson."

His eyes narrowed. Harry was hiding something again, but now wasn't the time to discern what - something more than just seeing his mother. Or was Severus getting too paranoid? Perhaps seeing his dead - he fought back the bile that rose in his throat. Not dead. There was no confirmation of that.

Perhaps it was just that. Just the pain of seeing his mother.

* * *

Silence reigned across the table as the Dark Lord drummed his fingers softly on the table, considering the papers in front of him. Nagini hissed next to him from her spot on the floor.

Lucius eyed her carefully. The chairs were too heavy to edge away, at least quietly. Across the table, Rodolphus frowned at him.

"You'll eat soon, Nagini." The Dark Lord's smooth voice cracked across the room like a whip.

He winced inside reflexively.

The parchment crackled as He set it back down. "The logistics will not prove a consideration," the Dark Lord said lightly, wiping away hundreds of years of the most complex magical warding with not even a frown. "What are your opinions on the matter at hand?"

"My Lord, we have the force to take the prison," Lucius began, after a nod from his sister-in-law. _Stick to the plan_. "And it is true that it would be most beneficial to strike now, and take the advantage in one swoop. We are missing some of your most loyal followers."

Down the table, Parkinson nodded her head.

"They will be invaluable in the fight ahead. With the Ministry's incompetence, and your wise judgement -" The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow at the blatant flattery. "With the events of last spring," Lucius amended, "the Ministry does not believe you have returned. Your plan worked. The Boy-Who-Lived looks like a fame-hungry idiot, and Dumbledore a fool for believing him. Instead, they have turned their sights to Hogwarts and Dumbledore's mismanagement of the school. In the meantime, they have relaxed their defenses significantly. We've pulled back all forces. No one will whisper without your order."

"All good omens for our attack, I believe." The Dark Lord stared at him. Lucius swallowed. _Why hadn't He just killed Potter?_ That had been the plan. The boy's corpse strung up for the world to see.

But the change in tactics had worked, better than he could have dreamed. And he would not question his Lord.

Even when He pulled back his aura, His power demanded every inch of respect. He turned to Bellatrix and Rodolphus. "But?"

Bellatrix dipped her head in acknowledgment of the Dark Lord's mild rebuke. "My cousin and his wife have refused, as has Rabastan."

A shadow flickered across the Dark Lord's face, but His eyes betrayed nothing. "Why?" He infused the question with every sense of disinterest, but it was still an order.

"My Lord," Bellatrix began again, choosing her words more carefully, "the children. At Hogwarts. There are fears that, if we lose the advantage of surprise, Dumbledore and his Order will move to preemptively close the school and use the students - our children - as hostages. The Ministry would be likely to agree in the spirit of public safety."

Leela Zabini's soft voice echoed through the hall. "Longbottom has already moved to rehome some of the children of our friends in Azkaban. Although he does not trust Dumbledore fully, he has been more wary than the Ministry. Particularly as he believes the children... deserve the chance to grow up in what he deems good Wizarding families." Angry murmurs met her words. "The children will be moved after the school year."

"They are already holding my niece as a hostage." Regulus turned to face the Dark Lord. "I apologize, my Lord, for speaking out of turn, but my brother wouldn't want this. Not for his own... nor for others' children."

The Dark Lord let the silence fall for a moment as he stared Regulus down. "Forgiven." He turned his head slightly, studying the Death Eaters in the room. "How many children do we have at Hogwarts?" He asked abruptly.

Zabini glanced at the others. "Nearly fifty," she said quietly. "Maybe more."

Lucius nodded. "Not counting the neutral families who haven't declared, and won't as long as the Ministry keeps their children at Hogwarts."

The Dark Lord leaned back, studying the papers that detailed the plan for attacking Azkaban before him. "We'll lose the element of surprise before we attack Azkaban."

"Yes, my Lord," came the chorus.

"An attack that would free my loyal followers - followers who have suffered for me and this cause, whose contribution might help us turn the tide."

"Yes, my Lord," they repeated.

The Dark Lord surveyed the table in the near empty room, the seats should have been filled.

"Prepare plans to free the students." He looked to Regulus. "Approach the neutral families friendly to us, but give no warning as to what we are considering. We must not lose the element of surprise." His eyes flickered between them. "That includes telling the children - _your_ children."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And no casualties."

"... my Lord?" Lucius frowned. "The students are guarded at every turn, we cannot ensure -"

"No casualties." The Dark Lord turned, his hand stroking Nagini's rearing head. "Dismissed. Except for you... Regulus."

"My Lord." The others filed out of the room, Lucius throwing a brief look towards Regulus. The wizard's face was inscrutable.

* * *

The door closed with a whisper.

"I wish to know about your brother's ward," the Dark Lord said finally, studying him.

 _Harry?_ Regulus swallowed, feeling uncomfortable for the first time that night. "Harry," he found himself saying. "Harry Steward."

"Harry Potter," the Dark Lord corrected, but it wasn't a rebuke. "Steward - that was Sirius's idea...?"

"No, Lily's," Regulus confessed. "Or they talked about it together. They -"

"I see." Something sharpened in his gaze. Next to him, Nagini began to hiss. "Sirius acted as a father to the boy. Quite noble. His wife had no objections?"

"No - I mean, it wasn't like that with Lily," he amended. "I believe Rhia was quite close to her, in fact. But no, Lily didn't - well, we never talked about what happened, but I don't believe she had any interest in pursuing a relationship. Her focus was her son." _That can't get anyone in trouble_. "And after Lily left, Sirius was really all Harry had. We all helped, of course - with Fia as well - but Harry... Harry and Sirius, they had a special bond."

"What happened to Harry after Sirius was arrested?"

 _What did he want with the boy?_ But his loyalty to the Dark Lord came first. Loyalty and faith.

Regulus racked his mind, thrown by the new conversation. "He was found on the streets - I mean, after getting off the train, not sleeping on the streets - by Lily's sister, I believe." The Dark Lord shifted slightly in his seat, motioning for him to continue when he paused. "I was still in the house at the time - the aurors watched it until September, and they were tracking my magical signature after that. But somehow she got word to Severus, I don't know how, who got word to me through our house elf."

The Dark Lord nodded. "I see."

* * *

The hammer banged against the wall once, twice, and then a third time. Finally, the degree settled into place, one of the more than fifty that marred the wall of the Great Hall.

Longbottom eyed the squib as he scurried out of sight, and then pulled out his pocket watch. _Five past two_. As he started to walk up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, he could have sworn he saw Umbridge smirking from the corner of his eye. Distaste rose in his mouth. The witch likely thought he was here to arrest the headmaster, though why she thought he'd come alone was beyond him.

"The Floo is still open to this office, I believe," Albus remarked calmly as Frank opened the door to the Headmaster's study. He peered at Frank over the top of his papers. "Unless you feel you need more exercise? I myself often find the long walk reinvigorating."

Frank frowned, and with a flick of his wand, forcibly muted their conversation to the listening ears of the portraits.

"That's really not necessary -"

"Umbridge has been named High Inquisitor of Hogwarts," Frank interrupted. He took the seat to the left, but declined the offered lemon drops. "I am to deliver the papers after my meeting here."

Albus leaned back, his expression unchanging. "Ah," he said blandly. "Now -"

"And over Christmas break," Frank continued, his voice brisk, "I heard from several of your students that the Potter child is attempting to form a - I believe I heard this right - underground militia group to be prepared when He Who Must Not Be Named returns. It seems he thinks of himself as some sort of prophesied hero."

"Well, he is the subject of a prophecy," Albus said thoughtfully. "And I believe you were around the same age when you joined the Order -"

Frank found himself frowning at the thought of how foolish he had been. The cause against that Dark wizard was just, and the atrocities You Know Who and his followers had committed unimaginable, but he could never bring himself to agree with the methods Dumbledore and Charlus Potter had used.

"Don't encourage the boy," he warned Albus, returning to the subject. "It would be sheer idiocy at this point to provoke Fudge even further. We need you at Hogwarts, not in hiding. And worse - we don't need the child to end up dead."

"The young have always been headstrong." Albus extended his hands and shrugged. "Charles is searching for purpose, and I fear he may take things into his own hands soon. But he's not the reason you came, is he?"

His twinkling eyes held Frank's gaze steadily, and Frank found himself developing a slight headache. He'd learned to defend his mind as an auror - though it'd never be enough to attack others, he could hold off any of Dumbledore's probes.

"I've received some intelligence that suggest that He Who Must Not Be Named's followers are starting to regroup." Frank felt the letters burn in his pocket; he hadn't trusted his team enough to leave them at the Ministry. "They'll be planning to attack Azkaban and free the prisoners there, of course. They don't have the manpower to launch any full scale attacks otherwise. But they might look to small targets. Ones that would strike particular fear."

Albus sighed. "I was afraid you might say that," he answered grimly. "But still. We do not have the manpower ourselves to defend muggle neighborhoods, as much as we might wish to protect them -"

"Of course." Frank felt a stone drop in his stomach. He'd passed the first hurdle. And if there was one thing he could trust, it was his mind's ability to mask his thoughts from Dumbledore "But I suspect that they might choose to make a statement rather than strike blind terror." Albus never blinked, but was that just his fear? "My son mentioned that you had a muggleborn student in Slytherin - quite a bright thing, in fact."

He had hoped she would have had the luck to stay a muggleborn, to never know her parents. He couldn't stop Bellatrix Lestrange from looking for her daughter, and as a parent, he could not fault her for trying, even if the girl was better off.

But his failure to keep the girl from her parents... it had been a vague hope, when he intercepted those letters, he had to admit, but he had hoped. He hadn't even looked after Lestrange had escaped. But when he saw the girl's words... he had to do something.

"Ah." Albus frowned. "You must excuse me, the mind goes sometimes - so many generations of students..."

"Miss Granger, I believe," Frank said, keeping his voice calm. "A Hermione Granger. She's been written up a few times for her academic prowess."

"Yes, I believe that sounds correct." The headmaster nodded fondly. "So you've received word that they might try to attack her? The poor thing, to be a muggleborn in Slytherin... sometimes fate is cruel to us."

"Yes." His mouth felt dry. "We believe so. She's the only muggleborn registered in Slytherin, at any rate. An unwelcome insult to He Who Must Not Be Named's house."

"Of course, of course," Albus murmured. "We must protect her."

"Perhaps an academic pursuit, to keep her here over the summer," Frank suggested, his voice suggesting disinterest. "Particularly with her N.E.W.T.S. in another year or so... I trust you'll come up with the appropriate professor."

"I have just the person in mind."

* * *

"Severus."

"My Lord." He bowed his head, waiting for the Dark Lord's reply. The fire crackled across the library.

"Sit," the Dark Lord instructed. He glanced at Severus briefly over his pile of papers. "Dumbledore knows you are here?"

"And awaiting my return." Severus shrugged slightly. "What would you have me tell him?"

"That our attack on Azkaban will be this spring, of course," the Dark Lord said dryly. "That I have been resurrected as a red-eyed demon. That my mind is gone, that my only pursuit is to torture those mad enough in turn to follow me. Anything and everything that he would eat up."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus waited patiently for the Dark Lord's real orders.

The Dark Lord finally placed his quill down. "How did the boy react?" His eyes followed Severus.

"Calmly, to me." He spoke slowly, reflecting on the memory of the night before. "Harry came quite prepared. I'm not sure how he found some of the materials, since they've banned most histories of the war from the library, but I believe many came from stories he'd heard in class."

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow.

"I told him the truth, my Lord." Severus trusted his instinct. He hadn't been surprised when the Dark Lord had summoned him the next morning. Their connection shined like a brilliant star through Harry's mind, even as much as the boy tried to cut it.

"It upset him," the Dark Lord said regretfully. "Even with knowledge of Bellatrix's daughter... he is upset."

Severus watched the owl outside as it flew by the window. "His mind has been turned by those at Hogwarts," he offered.

Silence fell.

"I do not wish you to persuade him," the Dark Lord said suddenly, cutting through the fear that still ran through him, the fear that the Dark Lord would not let him follow through on his loyalty to Lily. "No. He will come to me of his own will, without fear. I would not have him question his choice."

He nodded. He had never had any true reason to fear. The Dark Lord preferred his followers to be willingly loyal, unlike Dumbledore, and He was rewarded with devotion beyond anything Dumbledore could dream.

But still... Harry was special. There was something there, something that ran far deeper than any oath of loyalty.

How mad had it had been to think the Dark Lord might change his ways for him?


	23. Thus conscience does

"Thus conscience does"

"Sit back down, Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced up from his test and eyed the Gryffindors' half of the Great Hall out of the corner of his eye. The room was filled with quills scratched the parchment as the students sat for their final exams. Each Gryffindor was huddled over their papers, studiously ignoring the scene unfolding before them between their disgraced hero and the thoroughly despised Defense professor. Though Harry had long lost any sympathy he'd had for Potter, he still had to wince. Umbridge's methods when she was displeased were well known throughout the school.

"But this question isn't _right_." Potter puffed his chest out, glaring at the teacher.

Harry glanced down, trying to find the offending question.Silence slowly began to fall as curiosity overtook the other students - though none were brave, or stupid enough, to go so far as to stand up for Potter.

"These questions have been approved by the Ministry themselves," Umbridge said, her voice taking on a vile sweetness. "Now please sit down. Any further speaking out of turn will result in your immediate expulsion from the exam and automatic failure -"

"But -"

" _Mister Potter_." A chill spread across the room at her poisonous voice. Umbridge slowly began to make her way down the steps of dais, a delicate clop sounding through the hall at each step of her kitten heels. "Sit back down, or I will fail you."

" _No_."

Umbridge couldn't stop the whispers, glare as she might. They spread everywhere and nowhere, a growing clamor that overturned her order like waves upon a sandcastle. She elected to do the one thing she could to preserve her dignity - ignore them.

"Twenty minutes to -"

" _Charles!_ "

Potter slammed his bag against the table, his footsteps an angry curse against the flagstones. With a venomous glare, he strode out of the hall without so much as a look back to Umbridge.

* * *

"He demanded to see it -"

"I heard he went up to the Minister _himself_ and invoked some sort of ancient ritual -"

"- I thought it was just a legend though? I mean, the Department of Mysteries doesn't actually exist -"

"God," Hermione cursed scornfully as she buttered her toast. "You'd think they'd have better things to do than to gossip about Potter."

Harry followed her gaze to the teachers' dais. It was mostly empty - not a particularly unusual sight when examinations needed to be graded, but more interesting was who was missing than the number. McGonnagall and Flitwick may have just been grading, but Dumbledore - the headmaster always stopped in to be seen.

"Eh." Tracey grabbed the juice from across the table. "Exams are over. We're going home tonight. Potter hasn't been around since he walked out of the Defense exam. In their defense, we're running out of time for someone to die or get maimed this year - well..." Her voice died off as Harry glanced up. The two exchanged a look.

Draco looked between the two of them, lowering his voice as he leaned in. "You mean the stuff Umbridge was doing?"

"What I don't understand is why Dumbledore let it happen." Tracey's eyes flitted to the Slytherins around them to see if anyone was listening to them. "I looked up the law, they're illegal -"

Hermione shook her head, her voice grim. "The order came from the Ministry. If you look at the degrees outside -"

"No, Tracey's partially right," Draco interjected. "My father said Dumbledore still has the power as Headmaster to oversee student punishment. It's in the Hogwarts charter. He still had to approve it."

Harry looked at him across the table. "I thought they were going to remove him as a governor."

Draco shrugged. "Why would they?" he asked blandly, his expression unreadable. "There's no reason for removal."

As the clock struck eight, the clamor of the daily mail arrival ended conversation for the time being. Harry took another bite of his biscuit, observing his friends thoughtfully. Draco was ignoring him in favor of reading a few sentences from one of his parents' letters. Tracey was busy flipping through a few letters her owl had brought. He glanced to the side, a flippant comment on the tip of his tongue - but Hermione, too, had a letter in her hands, her face lighting up with a smile.

The words died on his lips, and as he looked back down at his plate, the food suddenly seemed tasteless. Harry looked across the Great Hall as his appetite disappeared. Across the tables, students were busy opening letters from home, gossip quickly forgotten as they gabbed about the summer vacation.

"Oh, shoot." The lie spilled out all too easily. "I forgot to return a book to the library. I'm just going to run up - I'll see you guys later."

"Okay!" Tracey didn't even look up.

Envy coursed through him as he made his way out of the hall. He'd never really received a letter at Hogwarts, even when he'd had a family to call his own. His mother had never sent him one letter.

Or pretend to be his own. Sirius wasn't family, no matter what he called him.

He didn't want to return back to Petunia. He wanted to go home - somewhere, anywhere, wherever that was.

Home.

Home with a real family.

 _His_ home with _his_ family.

But he pushed back his feelings as he made his way up to the library. What he wanted didn't matter. He knew enough now to know that.

* * *

"You can't mean to allow him to go through with this, Albus. How did the boy even find out about the Hall of Prophecies? Most of the Wizarding World doesn't even know it _exists_."

Albus looked with bemusement at Minerva. "I have no idea, my dear," he said with a twinkle in his eyes and a grandfatherly expression. He certainly hadn't intended the boy to put the pieces together so quickly... only to inspire him to stand strong against Dolores' prodding. "But what is done is done, I'm afraid."

Minerva wasn't satisfied with his tone of resignation. "But how did Charles even find out how to demand to see the prophecy? Those books were taken out of the library after the war to keep the students safe."

"I have to agree with Minerva," Filius said nervously. "This is a disturbing development. He shouldn't have had access to that sort of knowledge -"

The clock saved Albus from having to find another excuse. "Our guests will be waiting downstairs," he said gravely. "Charles has invoked his ancient rights, and he is determined to see them through."

He waited a moment until the two professors had departed. Minerva could sometimes be too smart for anyone's good, though she was valuable when she followed the right way. "Lally." The house elf appeared with a sharp snap. "Please remove the book on the Hall of Prophecies from Mr. Potter's trunk."

"Yes sir."

Slowly, Albus pushed himself up from his chair. Charles had caught on to the hall's existence a bit sooner than he expected, but perhaps it was for the best, he reflected. The Light would need a leader for the coming war, and this would halt Tom's progress at the Ministry. The prophecy - the _public_ unveiling of the prophecy - would silence Fudge and his supporters. Longbottom, Kingsley, and Bones still commanded respect among the Ministry, especially with their growing distrust of him, and they'd fall back into line. _No, this was for the best._

The stairs felt steeper than usual as he made his way down to the landing to the room where his visitors waited.

"Cornelius." The minister sniffed, turning back to the lackeys he'd brought. The fool. Albus doubted Fudge knew what Dolores had done with the leeway he'd given her, but it wouldn't matter. Blame for it would go to him - and when those children arrived back home, no family worth a galleon would support his reelection this summer. Across the room, Molly and Arthur Weasley stood with Dorea Potter, nervous smiles on their faces. One of their children was with them - ah, and Ginevra, as he'd instructed.

"Shall we begin?" He spread his arms, smiling jovially at the group even as he noticed Minerva trying to persuade James not to let it go through.

James pushed past his old head of house. "Let's start," he said cheerfully. "Charles is ready."

Three of the visitors stepped forward, their faces covered by a dark veil that fell under their cloaks. "Charles Potter?"

The boy stepped forward out of Minerva's grasp, a hungry gaze in his eyes as he saw the box in their hands. "Yes," he said, nearly panting. "I'm here."

One of the three stepped forward - a witch, Albus guessed from the voice, but there was no way to really tell. The light from the tall windows across the room fell across her cloak, but she gave no indication it blinded her. "You are aware of the dangers?"

"There will be no danger," Charles said arrogantly. "I'm the Chosen One, I defeated the Dark Lord."

Next to him, James snorted. "Who else would the prophecy be about?" He'd meant it to be a whisper, but the silence the Keepers brought made it echo through the room.

"Very well." A gloved hand rested on the top of the box - a plain little thing for the power it held. With a creak, the Keeper opened the box, revealing a smoky blue ball, the glow disappearing as it was revealed to the light. "Break it open, and the prophecy will be repeated."

Charles stepped forward. For a second, his hand extinguished the light of the box.

Then he fell to the floor with a scream, and hell broke loose.


	24. Make cowards of us all

"Make cowards of us all"

Albus stared at Fawkes' dead ashes wordlessly. Time ticked slowly past, making the silence all the more apparent.

"We're fucked." Frank looked up from his perch against one of the august bookcases, his skin an ashy white. "The Potter boy is - we're absolutely fucked," he repeated grimly. "There's no way this will end well. The minute a student sees -"

"The students are leaving today." Albus met Frank's eyes, but there was nothing new to tell him in his gaze. Frank's mind was always an open book to him. "They will not be an issue."

"The more important question is, who does the prophecy apply to, if not to Potter?" Kingsley looked between the two wizards. "The prophecy wasn't what was wrong. The Chosen One was."

"If -"

A knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Albus answered, the possibilities racing through his head. What had he missed that night? The boy had been right there in the crib, the room destroyed by Dark Magic. The muggleborn, dead in the bed. No one else had been there.

"Professor Dumbledore." Red hair - a Weasley, though an older one to be sure. "I - um -"

"Now is not the best time, Bill," Frank said, his voice gruff.

Bill glanced back to Dumbledore, clearly nervous. "Please, sir." He swallowed. "I think I might know who it is you're looking for."

* * *

Harry paused as he got to the stairway. It turned out he hadn't lied at breakfast - he actually had forgotten to return a book, a fact he'd failed to remember until the night before after wasting the whole day lounging about the castle. He'd returned it just in time - the train was leaving in an hour, and he still had to go collect his trunk.

But there were too many strange things going on in the castle for his liking.

Voices echoed down the hallway, coming closer. Something told him to run, to go the other way, but there was a nagging suspicion in his mind.

Someone had nearly bowled him over that morning running to the Hospital Wing. And Harry could have sworn someone had been screaming. Usually he'd write it off as parents overreacting over their precious child, but...

But it _was_ the end of the school year.

So Harry paused on the stairwell, torn between the voice in his head telling him to stop being an idiot, and the burning curiosity to find out what precisely was causing the ruckus.

Suddenly, the voices changed direction, and his indecision cost him his choice. They were closer then he had originally assumed, the pair of footsteps rounding the corner just as Harry glanced up reflexively.

The wizard stopped in his tracks. He was old, perhaps in his late thirties; dark hair, a lanky frame, and glasses that made his height all the less imposing. Harry swallowed. The man's face was white, clearly distraught - and suddenly the anger that always threatened to bubble over in Harry's mind receded. This wasn't just a question of curiosity to them.

Guilt rose in him. "I'm sorry," he said nervously, but the wizard didn't seem to hear. His eyes bore into Harry's; unconsciously, he took a step back, hitting the staircase at an awkward angle.

He'd seen the wizard before, he was sure - oh. The end of the year.

"I'm - I'm sorry," the man - James Potter - babbled. "Sorry. You just - you have her eyes."

Harry's eyes shot up. "What?" His heart stopped.

 _You have your mother's eyes._

"My Lily." He paused as Harry stepped into the ray of light that ran across the hallway. "I'm sorry." Something seemed to catch his gaze; he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes anymore.

"Lily," Harry said, his mouth dry. "My mother's name was Lily." He offered the knowledge unbidden, the words escaping before he realized what he had said.

"No," Potter murmured. "It couldn't be." Slowly, his gaze rose again. "Her son wouldn't be -"

Blood rushed through his head, pounding with every heartbeat. No. No. _No_. The words slipped soundlessly from his lips. "Lily Evans." Potter's words were lost to his ears.

Potter stared at him. "Impossible," he whispered. "You've been right in front of me all this time..."

"James?" An imperious tone cracked through the air. "We need to - what is this?" The witch stopped behind Potter, taking in the scene in front of her. Harry got the distinct sense that she was someone not to cross, but he couldn't tear his gaze from Potter.

"He says he's Lily's son," Potter replied, his voice cracking. "My - _my_ son. But - but he was supposed to be... He's at Hogwarts. He has magic."

Something broke in Harry.

The woman's face behind him started to smile, but Harry could only focus on Potter.

He wasn't lying.

"Can you tell me? What - what happened to her?" Harry took another nervous step forward. _My father. I have a father. I have a family -_

Anger coursed through him, anger and rage and sadness. _Why hadn't his mother told him? Why hadn't any of them told him? He had a family. They were there this entire time._

"Of course." Potter's father - no, _his_ father - looked at him in wonderment. "Everything. Anything. We can be a family again."

* * *

"Where's Harry?" Tracey asked quizzically. "We really ought to start walking down to the train station..."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, only half listening as she looked at her watch in distraction. The house elves had been late to pick up the trunks and it'd thrown her entirely off schedule. "I'll meet you guys down there, I just need to go meet with McGonagall - shoot, I'm already late." She started to race out of the common room.

"McGonagall?" She heard Tracey say, but she didn't respond. "What does _McGonagall_ want with you?"

 _Good question_ , Hermione thought to herself, but she didn't have time to ponder it. McGonagall wouldn't let her miss the train, but she didn't need to give the professor another reason to dislike her by being late.

* * *

"I just checked the entire train. Neither of them on it."

Tracey groaned, sliding into her seat. "Where could they be though?" she demanded. "Hermione was just going to see McGonagall, it's not like she was kidnapped. And Harry - well, Merlin knows where he disappears to half the time, but it's not like him to just not show up."

"There's more," Draco replied, taking a seat across from her. "Apparently Potter's not here either." His voice was grim as he shared a look with her. "Something's up."

"I -"

With a horrendous jolt, the train suddenly stopped.

"Draco..." Tracey's voice took on a warning tone as she looked outside the window for answers. Above them, the lights were flickering on and off, the sudden silence jarring. He glanced outside - it wasn't anything special, just fields as far as the eye could see.

"I don't know," he said defensively. "Whatever's going on, I don't know what it is."

Tracey glanced back to him, an unreadable look crossing her face.

"Come on," she said abruptly, standing. "We should get out of here."

"What are you doing?" Draco rose, but he didn't follow her to the door.

Tracey looked back over her shoulder as she glanced out into the hallway. "Come on. We need to get you out of here." Her voice was grim.

"No - what do you _mean_?" he demanded.

She threw him a withering gaze. "Harry and Hermione have disappeared. The last time fishy things happened on this train, your cousin got dragged away by aurors. Do you really want to wait around to see if they've come for you?"

Draco swallowed. "Come on." He pushed past her. "We have to find Fia -"

"Draco."

The two of them spun around, pulling their wands out as they shifted into a defensive stance, but the hallway was deserted except for one familiar masked figure.

"Father," Draco said, relief rushing through him. Lucius Malfoy stood paused in the center of the hallway, wearing dark armor that gave off an imposing air. His face was covered with that white mask so familiar to Draco, the hood of the cloak hiding the recognizable blonde hair. But he'd recognize his father's magic anywhere.

He lowered his wand, though next to him, Tracey hadn't relinquished her death grip on hers. She'd also tried to shove in front of him, he noticed as he eyed her. Suddenly, the present issue came rushing back to him. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"I'll explain later. Where's your trunk?" He didn't take off the mask.

"In the - wait, father," Draco said quickly, as Lucius Malfoy started to make for the compartment. _A rescue. A - they_ came _for_ us. "Harry and Hermione - they're not on the train."

His father looked up, shock flitting across his face. "What do you mean?"

"We don't think they got on the train," Tracey jumped in. "They both disappeared at school this morning, and we haven't seen them since."

Lucius frowned. "Get your trunks," he said suddenly. "Davis, correct?" Tracey nodded. "Make your way down to Compartment 173. Don't stop for anyone. You have five minutes, but get there as soon as possible. Your aunt and uncle are waiting there to get all of you out of here. Tell them I'm searching the train."

He strode down the corridor; with a flick of his wand, smoke began to fill the air, blocking any further view.

Draco stared at his father's retreating form until it disappeared, and then looked to Tracey.

"Are you coming?"

* * *

The jolt threw them all off, but it wasn't until the train stopped that a fear began to set in.

"We should get one of the prefects," a girl said nervously. Ginny and Fia traded a look, Fia huddled in her corner while Ginny was pretending to ignore her.

"I'll go," Ginny announced, keeping her voice confident. Overhead, the lights flickered.

"What, and leave us here with _her_?"

"You're right." Ginny sniffed. "Black, come on. And don't try anything," she warned.

"You were a little obvious," Fia pointed out with a grin when the door slammed shut behind them. The hallway was deserted, the heavy walls blocking out any sound.

"Eh." She shrugged. "It'll buy us some time. Hopefully we can find an empty compartment and just chill until we get to London. What do you think's going on, anyways?"

The two started to make their way down the hallway. "Something mechanical?" Fia offered, yawning. "Who knows. It's an old -"

Ginny nearly slammed into her friend as she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Uncle Regulus?"

The masked wizard came to a stop just in front of them, panting a little from running down the train. "Oh, good," he said cheerfully. "I found you."

Fia slammed into him, something like a sob racking her body. He hugged her back just as fiercely. "Hey kid." His voice was soft, and Ginny had the uncomfortable feeling that she was intruding. "I missed you too."

Finally, he pulled away. "We have to get going. Is your friend coming?" He gestured up, and Ginny realized with a jolt he was motioning at her.

"Ginny?"

Her mouth fell dry, but whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a scream. A red blast echoed through the hallway, ripping the walls to shreds.

 _Who was that?_

Dimly, she felt her head. Her fingers came away bloody. Oh. _Oh_. The screams had been her own.

She looked up ahead. The wizard was helping her friend up, Fia's leg dragging on the floor. _No._ She could stand, but barely - and she was hesitating.

"Go," Ginny whispered, her head erupting into pain. She pushed it away. But Fia wouldn't - she was saying something, but Regulus looked at her, and then at Fia, and they were too far away - " _Go_ ," Ginny screamed, finding her voice. "I said, _go_."

Fia nodded. Ginny felt fear rise up inside her - there wasn't any time, she could hear the blasts behind her, the thud of people running towards instead of away from the commotion... "Go," she whispered weakly.

Fia went.

Ginny felt her world slowly fade as the voices came nearer.


	25. And thus the native hue of Resolution

"And thus the native hue of Resolution"

"How did Snape not know?" Potter demanded, anger rushing through every word.

Harry stood still in the chair, deaf to the world of the Headmaster's office around him. _Potter. His father - his family - him, he wasn't Harry Steward_ \- nothing made sense anymore, nothing and everything - dimly, he was aware of the clock striking, a cold rush in the back of his head, elation and anger that wasn't his -

"Albus." His heart seemed to stop when Severus' cool words cut through the mad rush of the morning. "You wanted to see me?"

Someone was speaking, but Harry couldn't pay attention. Blood pounded through his head. Something tugged on him, hard, but -

"I don't pry unnecessarily into my students' lives, Albus," Severus said blandly. "Perhaps Steward might tell you where he grew up."

Harry looked up to his Head of House. Severus' face betrayed not a single thought, it gave nothing away... and as happy as Harry had been at the knowledge he'd found, a sudden terror took root in his heart. Severus - Fia - all of them.

If this was where he was supposed to be - if all of this was right - why did he feel so much guilt?

He missed whatever was said next. "Perhaps the better question is, how did _you_ not know?" Severus sneered as he overturned the interrogation in one swoop. "As I recall, you and your uncle were the first to discover the bodies."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, his heart racing at the lies ready - _keep it simple -_ he had to speak before Severus did - but Potter cut him off.

"He was with Lily's family, of course," Potter said angrily. "Don't try to change this around -"

"Why, may I ask, was he with his mother's _muggle_ relatives?"

Slowly, Harry followed Severus' gaze to Po - his father.

James snorted. "He showed no signs of magic. It was the best place for him to go. The risk of a squib child growing up as the brother of the Chosen One - it was too great."

Something twisted in Harry's heart, a whisper of darkness and hunger, but he squashed it. _He thought it was the best place_.

"James only did what he thought was best." It was the Headmaster who spoke now - but Harry was too focused on Potter to turn. His face was flush, a cold anger in his eyes - but it was all towards Severus - and anger rose in him too, anger at Severus -

"... take Harry home," someone suggested.

Something pulled at him again, rage and fury and sadness, nearly overwhelming Harry again, but he held on - it must have been Potter who took him, who pulled him into the fireplace -

"Severus, your report on the train..."

But the Headmaster's office spun out of sight, consumed by green flames, and he spun into air and hit a stone floor roughly, a cold sting on his palms.

"Welcome home, Harry," Potter said cheerfully behind him.

* * *

Draco splashed water on his face, his head still swimming with the excitement of the day. Wiping off the drops, he looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, face flush with happiness. A mess, to be sure, but who cared? He was home.

"Let's go get some food," he said to Fia as he walked to the closet and grabbed a clean shirt, pulling it on over his head. She was perched on the side of his bed, spinning her wand in her hands.

"Yeah." She got off the bed, but her usual bounce wasn't there. Draco frowned - she should have been the first to celebrate coming home -

"Draco? Iphiginia?" His father knocked once at the door before opening it gently, taking in the sight of the two children with a slight frown. "Come along. The Dark Lord has requested to see you."

" - the - the -" Draco felt the air rush out of him suddenly. Yes, he'd known his father was a Death Eater, one of the leaders of the Dark Lord's followers, but -

"Draco." His father's eyes bore into him. "Don't dawdle."

Swallowing nervously, he picked up the pace as Lucius led them out of the room, Fia on his father's other side. She was silent - was she nervous too? He never could tell with his cousin. _What would He be like?_ To meet one of the most powerful wizards - maybe the most - of all time... His heart pounded, threatening to overwhelm him. The manor was bustling with noise, though they passed only a few people in the hallway. He recognized some of the voices - he had some vague recollection of parents greeting the other students as they arrived at the manor - but others were a mystery. Those they did pass nodded to Lucius as they walked by, but didn't say a word.

Draco tensed just as they arrived at the door of the solar on the third floor. Lucius paused, and gave Draco a quick squeeze on his shoulder. "You'll be fine," he whispered. But Draco had no time to respond; suddenly, his father was pushing open the door, and the two cousins were ushered into the chamber.

He blinked as the light hit his eyes unexpectedly; the solar opened up onto the courtyard downstairs, the afternoon sun setting right in line with the view from the windows. The room was just as he'd remembered it from the few times he'd been allowed in as a child, the fire roaring corner, the dusty books scattered across the bookcases, the chairs fixed around the old wooden table... and he froze as he met the eyes of the man at the end of it.

"Lucius." The Dark Lord set down the papers he'd been reading as he acknowledged his lieutenant's arrival. "Miss Black. Mr. Malfoy."

"My lord." Draco bowed awkwardly, the lessons his parents had drilled into him as a child and that he'd recited perfectly rushing out of his mind in one swoop. Next to him, Fia echoed his movement smoothly. He eyed her out of the corner of his sight, curiosity suddenly overtaking him. She met the Dark Lord's gaze steadily.

"I understand Miss Granger and Mr. Steward were not on the train." The unspoken command broke through his errant thoughts and drew his attention back immediately. He swallowed, hoping the Dark Lord hadn't noticed, but the wizard's eyes continued to bore into him. His face was emotionless, but hardly empty - the dark eyes glittered with an unspoken power, strength echoing with every word. He was young, Draco realized, startled. Or not young, but with the ageless look of a marble statue.

Fia nudged him, and Draco registered his words again. "No - ah, I apologize, my lord," he stuttered. The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. Taking a deep breath, he began again, feeling a hot flush rising on his cheeks. "Harry disappeared that morning. To the library, I think, but he didn't come back. He didn't say. And Hermione - she, she was supposed to meet with McGonagall... we didn't realize - we thought we might have just missed them getting onto the train, but then we didn't find them, and we searched the entire train but -"

The Dark Lord nodded, and Draco felt the words die on his tongue. "I see. Lucius?"

"We haven't had word from Hogwarts yet," his father said grimly. "Not since yesterday."

He motioned something, and Draco felt his father grip his shoulder - confusion rose in him; _was that it?_

"Lucius, leave the girl with me," the Dark Lord ordered suddenly. Draco glanced at his cousin with surprise, biting his lip -

"Don't worry yourself, Draco." Was that amusement in his voice? "I only wish to speak to Sirius' daughter. Lucius, make the arrangements we spoke of."

"Yes, my lord. We'll be prepared tonight."

* * *

Harry took a deep, ragged breath as he raised his hand to the door. A house elf had pointed him this way - well, he didn't really need much help. When he'd woken up that morning, the house was empty, every door closed. He'd waited in his room, butterflies racing through his stomach, but nobody came. No, they must have meant for him just to come down - and now he was going to look like an idiot for not coming down sooner.

He stayed himself, ready to knock, but his hand slipped and pushed the door open.

"Oh, Harry!" Potter was sitting at a round table, breakfast laid out in a glittering spread across it. Fresh cut fruit was splayed out wantonly on a platter, pastries overflowing from a basket next to it. Three - _three_ \- juices, thick and pulpy in delicate glass pitchers. Though he'd grown used to the feasts at Hogwarts, there was something about seeing such luxury in a home - his home. His home, not someone else's.

Potter folded the newspaper with a sharp snap, drawing Harry's attention back up. "I didn't realize you'd be down."

Silence fell awkwardly.

Harry hovered on the edge of the table, unsure where to sit, or even whether to sit. Light poured into the room from the glass walls that opened onto a view of rolling hills, green as far as the eye could see and empty for miles. On one end was a quidditch pitch, just like the one at Hogwarts. It was a far cry from the city he'd grown up in, the most empty space he'd ever seen in his life. Suddenly, he remembered why he'd come down in the first place. "Can I - could I write to Petunia?"

"Who?" Potter's voice brought him back to the present.

Harry lost his thoughts for a moment. "Oh - um, Petunia." The older wizard still looked puzzled. "Petunia? Aunt Petunia. I think she might have been worried when I didn't come back from Hogwarts yesterday..."

"Aunt Dorea!" Harry followed his gaze to the doorway, thrown off for the moment. It was the woman he'd seen in the hallway at Hogwarts, he realized after a second. _Oh_. _She's my aunt._ He'd never really thought of Potter having an aunt; no one ever talked about his family much.

"You must be Harry." The older woman smiled deeply. She could have been in her fifties or sixties - or probably was, if she was his great aunt - but her face was only gently lined, the only trace of age. She was taller than Potter was, and slender. Delicate was the word that came to mind, though frail might have been better. If the glass hadn't held back the winds outside Harry was sure they would have knocked her right over. It was strange... if he didn't see her now, right here in front of him, he would have sworn this wasn't the woman he'd seen just one day before.

She looked over him to Potter. "James, you should have let the boy get some rest. I'm sure he's overwhelmed right now," the witch scolded.

"I -"

"Don't worry, dear." She paused to pat his cheek before walking over to the second place setting. "James, we must discuss the news - Harry, dear." She looked back up at him, the smile still etched into her face. "Go get some rest. Tiya will be up with some food."

Harry swallowed. "Okay."

Only when he left the room did he realize he'd never received an answer. He glanced back. No - the door was almost shut, the light drawing a sharp line across the wood floor.

It wasn't a big deal, he reassured himself. He'd just ask the next time he saw them.

As he hovered on the landing, some whispers fell through the crack of the door. An odd feeling rose in his stomach, that ugly little feeling he was intruding on something he wasn't meant to hear -

"... just like his mother."

Harry froze. The witch - Dorea - was the one who'd spoken - _but that was normal. It was a normal thing to say, to say he was like his mother. She'd_ _ **known**_ _his mother, after all_. He turned back up - he was just seeing things were there weren't any. It was normal. Normal to be anxious - Hermione had felt that way too.

When he got to his room, someone had laid out food on the desk. Harry took a bite or two, but he wasn't hungry anymore. Dorea was right. He probably just need to rest - he hadn't slept well all night, tossing and turning, unexplained anger - or sadness? - rushing over him again and again. Letting his robe settle on the chair of the desk, he got back into the bed, sleep claiming him almost instantly.

Behind him, the door clicked shut as the lock turned.

* * *

Elation washed over him.

He woke in the darkness, his sight blurry. Did he have a fever? No, that wasn't right. He was aware of something -

 _Harry_.

Tom's voice gripped him like a cold curse.

Tom, he tried to answer, but his tongue felt heavy. Something coursed through him again, threatening to overwhelm him - the same feeling of being tugged under by the ocean tide that overcame him the day before.

Harry panicked, air racing through his lungs, trying to reach for something that wasn't there. It was too much, it was going to drown him - _no_ , he pushed against it, struggling against the power he couldn't control - _NO_ , he screamed.

Sadness raced through him again, heartache anger, grief, before he pushed it away again with more force.

The darkness fled, chased away by the harsh light of the sun.

* * *

"My lord?"

Lord Voldemort frowned, turning back to the table. Faces looked back at him nervously, though none were bold enough to question him. He nearly snorted. Moments like these made him miss Sirius - the young wizard had never failed to be bold, at least, whatever his other faults...

"Continue." He gestured in a lazy order.

"The attack was successful, my lord." Regulus Black met his gaze calmly. "No fatalities on our side. Several of the younger recruits were injured when the Ministry forces engaged us, but..."

He turned over the call he'd heard just moments before in his head as Regulus continued his report on the attack on Azkaban. The call had been muted, as if screaming underwater, but it had been Harry - of that he was certain.

And the boy had pushed him away.

Something twisted inside him, feelings he had no time to deal with. "The prisoners?" he asked abruptly, as Regulus finished the report on their forces.

"All were freed from Azkaban, my lord." Bellatrix was more muted than normal. Both she and Rodolphus were overflowing with anger - he'd debated against sending them, but their cold rage had made them unstoppable. "They're recovering now, but it's too early to say how the healing process will go."

"Good." His voice was curter than he intended. "Regulus, ensure the wards remain stable. Establish the new bases we discussed. Lucius?"

"Still no word from Hogwarts, my lord. Members of the Order have not been seen for the last few days; we suspect they may have gone into hiding. Though Dumbledore has made attempts to consolidate power at the Ministry, they are still recovering from their losses. The distraction worked - they drew their forces away from Azkaban in their confusion just as we suspected they would. It is too soon to determine which way the Ministry will turn now that we've made our presence known."

Voldemort drummed his fingers on the top of the table. "Severus has not been incapacitated, but the events of the past two days will prevent him from making contact for now." His gaze rested briefly on Bellatrix and Rudolphus, before glancing to Regulus. "We will focus on consolidating our power. Let the Ministry fall, let the Order panic. They can do nothing for now."

"Yes, my Lord."


	26. Is sicklied o'er

"Is sicklied o'er"

Harry woke with a start. The dream had been so real - but no, it was nothing. Nothing more than a fever dream. They were never more than fever dreams, though they'd been getting fewer and fewer in the days - weeks? - since he'd come to the Potter manor.

Tom wasn't there, and the quicker he remembered that, the better he would be.

He rubbed the side of his head as he yawned. Hogwarts and London had made him used to noise and activity throughout the day, but the silence of the country had made him lazy. Even the thought of getting out of bed made him want to go back to sleep... was it eleven already?

"Master Harry." The snap of the house elf's arrival startled Harry, though not enough to wake him up.

He yawned. "Yes?"

Was the house elf glaring at him? "Master Potters are expecting you in the breakfast room."

"Oh. Right..." Harry racked his brain as he struggled to remember if he'd missed something. No, he didn't think either one of them had mentioned anything about breakfast, but maybe they had. Most days he was left to his own devices, left to wander the wing he'd been put in. Potter usually had business that took him out of the manor for days at a time. He'd said something vague about the Ministry the few times Harry had caught him going out, leaving Harry feeling guilty about interrupting the - his father.

Like always, the doors leading down to the ground floor were closed, but Harry didn't feel curious enough to ever open them. _No need to pry_. A calm settled over him.

He paused right before the door, knocking as usual.

"Oh! Harry!" The voices inside stopped suddenly, before the door opened.

"Thanks," Harry told the house elf, though as usual the elf stayed silent.

"Harry." Dorea smiled at him warmly. "So good of you to join us. Here, sit down." She pulled out the chair next to her and patted it."

"Are more people coming for breakfast?" The question felt awkward, and he cringed inside.

"Why?" Potter's tone was sharp, and he put down his coffee to stare at Harry.

"Oh, um." Harry swallowed, and gestured to the other place settings. "The - uh -"

"Ah, yes," Dorea said casually, cutting in as she poured him some juice herself. "The Weasleys will be visiting -"

"He wouldn't know them," Potter said dismissively. "Good Gryffindor family," he added, thankfully mistaking the look on Harry's face.

Harry took a slow sip of his juice, hoping no one pried deeper. _Well, everyone knew Ron_. Merlin. Would Ron be visiting? What would - _no, he doesn't know you. Not by name._

"Tizzy mentioned you were looking for an owl yesterday." It wasn't a scolding, but Harry suddenly felt nervous under Dorea's gaze. _Quit being ridiculous_ , he told himself. _Of course the house elf told her, I'm still a stranger_.

"Yeah." He took another sip of the juice. "I, um... I wanted to send a letter to Professor Snape." Was that guilt? "He wanted us to talk to him over the summer, about N.E.W.T. classes," he added quickly, feeling the odd need to confess.

Potter snorted. "Why would you need to talk to Snape about that? Snivillus can't be trusted. He's a Death Eater, the whole lot of them were. Malfoy, Black... the entire house. Disgusting."

Harry swallowed back the words on the tip of his tongue. _He doesn't_ _ **know**_ _them_ , he reassured himself. "Well, before I go back to Hogwarts."

Potter blinked in confusion. "Hogwarts?" He shared a long look with Dorea.

"... Don't be silly," Dorea said with a smile. "You'll be here where it's safe. You need to train, after all. There's not much time before you'll have to join the war effort."

"Oh." Harry looked between the two of them, unsure of how to continue. _War?_ _He didn't **want** to be part of the war, he never had. _"But - Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain, everyone says that -"

A dark look passed over Potter's face. "Not after what happened this spring -"

"Here." Dorea smiled broadly, offering up one of the platters to him as she cut in. "Have some food. You must be hungry."

 _Merlin. Charles, of course._ Potter had never told him what had happened to the Gryffindor. No one would, beyond that he was in the hospital.

"Mrs. Weasley and Miss Weasley," the house elf announced. Dorea nodded. "Show them in," she ordered.

Guilt rose in him. Potter - no, James - his _father_ \- Morgana, he must have been worried sick. And here he was upset he'd barely seen him, knowing that Charles was still in the hospital... Charles, his brother, as much as he disliked him.

"Lady Potter." Ginny's voice broke him out of his thoughts; shock passed quickly over her face at the sight of him before she carefully schooled her expression.

"Molly, Ginevra. So good of you to join us. Harry, why don't you take Ginevra out to the gardens?" Dorea suggested gently.

Harry opened his mouth to point out he didn't know where the gardens were when he saw Ginny give a little shake of her head. "Yes, ma'am." Trying to control the nervous twitch in his fingers, he rose and followed Ginny's lead out of the room.

* * *

She rounded on him as soon as they were outside. "What are you doing here?" But as angry as she was, she kept her voice to a low hiss.

Harry blinked. "I - um - it's a long story." He racked his brain, trying to figure out the best way to start. Merlin, it was insane. It seemed like an eternity since he'd last seen Ginny that spring.

She glanced back inside, wary at some unseen threat. "Just tell it quickly then."

Slowly, he began to relay how he'd ended up at Potter manor, though once he got to the house there really wasn't anything to tell. Most of the summer he'd been stuck inside; not bored, exactly, but hardly exciting.

"You've been here since May?" Ginny interrupted. She took a short step back, a frown growing on her face. "So you didn't - you don't know - Harry, you need to get out of here. Now. _Run_. Before you can't."

"What?" Harry asked in confusion. "No, I can't. I have to stay here."

"Master Harry, Miss Ginny," the voice interrupted. Ginny tensed up next to him as the house elf made herself known. "Lady Potter asks that you join them in the breakfast room."

Ginny was completely silent for the walk back, her eyes staring straight ahead, unresponsive to Harry's unspoken questions.

When they opened the door, Harry froze. Deep in conversation were two new visitors to the table - a redhead, and...

" _Harry?_ "

* * *

Sirius attempted to rise as he entered the room. "Sit," the Dark Lord ordered with a dismissive wave, but the fool fixed him with a glare and stood up anyways to offer a slow bow.

"My lord."

"Sirius, sit down." Sirius cocked an eyebrow. With a sigh, Voldemort took the seat across from him. Finally, the younger wizard settled back down into his chair, but not without some effort, Voldemort noted with a small frown. Sirius offered a grin when he noticed his expression, drawing the blanket on his shoulders closer.

"I'm an old man, I know." With a short twist of his hand, the fire across from them roared back to life. "Azkaban's good for that." He looked up. "The healer said I'll be back to full strength soon -"

"I believe the order was to rest," Voldemort said dryly. "In fact, I _specifically_ recall hearing complaints from the healers that you wouldn't follow orders."

"Liars, the lot of them." Sirius sniffed. "Hufflepuffs always are. Everyone knows that."

"Stop using wandless magic."

Sirius frowned, letting the silence grow.

Lord Voldemort waited.

Finally, Sirius looked at him with a frank gaze. "I'm better off than all the rest that came out of that place; my family's magic saw to that. My lord - use me. I want to -" Sudden rage gripped his voice. "They tore my family apart, they left our bodies out for the vultures to eat. Use me. Don't keep me locked up here."

Voldemort studied his godson. Sirius was gaunt, even two months out. Lines were etched deep into his face, white speckled through his hair. Every movement spoke of a deep-set weariness. He could have easily been sixty.

"Rest." He cut off Sirius before he could respond. "Rest, recover. Spend time with your family. Your daughter is tougher than she looks, but she deserves her father. Get your strength back. I'll need you by my side soon enough."

Sirius frowned. "Yes, my lord. But -"

Voldemort knew what he wanted to ask. "But?"

"No one's told me where Harry is yet." He was blunt, as always. "Though since they keep trying to conveniently change the subject, I gather he's not here. They told me about Hermione. They won't say a word about Harry."

"No." Voldemort kept his tone steady. "Severus has informed us that he willingly went with the Potters -"

"Willingly - I thought Charlus was dead?" Sirius changed course abruptly. "That James was the new Lord Potter."

"Your aunt," he answered sharply. "Dorea Black."

"Aunt Dorea?" Sirius frowned. "Merlin, I'd forgotten she'd married Charlus Potter. I only ever met Potter's parents anyways. She's..." His voice trailed off for a moment as he lost the words. "I only heard father speak of her once or twice. Awful at Potions, apparently, but had a reputation for Runes. My cousins might know more. I'm surprised she married a Potter - that line of the family had a real reputation for obsession with blood purity."

"Bellatrix believes she's the reason the Potters knew of her child. Another one of your old family artifacts."

"Goblin-made, no doubt. We never settle for anything less than the best. It's a fault of ours." He sighed. "Why does Severus think Harry went willingly?"

"Harry gave us no reason to think otherwise." Voldemort didn't elaborate, but he could see the wheels turning in Sirius' mind.

"Your..." Voldemort waited for Sirius to finish, wanting to see what his protege would ask next, how much he knew of the years he'd been gone but yet not. How much had he guessed? Sirius didn't disappoint. "Your connection."

"Closed. By Harry."

"Ah." Sirius' mouth twisted in a grimace. "I doubt the Potters know about it either, which means they didn't force him to do it."

"They don't. Harry seems to have left out quite a few facts about his upbringing."

"If he went willingly, I understand why. He's always wanted a family." Sirius stared at the fire, his voice turning firm. "He's their son. They've never harmed their own." He turned back to Lord Voldemort. "What are we to do if he's - since he's joined them?"

He met his godson's eyes. "What's necessary, of course. This is a war."

"Are you sure?"

"What would you have me do? This is his choice."

* * *

"I'm - um - sorry. You know. About all of this." Harry cringed inside as he rambled on. Charles hadn't waited long after breakfast to come to his room. Even though he'd been expecting the knock on the door, something inside his stomach flipped over. Hugging his arms reflexively to his chest, he leaned against the desk.

Charles didn't say anything for a moment, instead looking around as he took in the room. He looked everywhere except for Harry.

"So you've been here since May."

Harry nodded in response, his throat still tight. "Yeah."

He finally looked at him, and to Harry's surprise, Charles offered a grin. "It was a bit of a shock, I'll admit that," Charles said ruefully, pushing his hair back with one hand. "I -" He swallowed. "I mean - well - waking up and finding out most of my life was a bit of a lie. But, I mean. I've always wanted a brother." He nodded slowly, looking Harry over. "So we're brothers," he echoed.

Harry tried to relax but couldn't. For the first real time, the implications of being a Potter sunk in. _Why hadn't Mum said anything? Why hadn't she told him he had a brother?_ A memory of Sirius warning him about Dumbledore's ability to read minds snuck up on him, but he squashed it. There was always some lie about protecting him - from what? They were on different sides, but they were still _family_.

"It must have been weird, not knowing anything about your family growing up," Charles continued. "I always wondered what mother was like. If she'd be proud of me. Dad was great, of course... but." Sadness crept into Charles' voice, and Harry felt an unexpected surge of guilt rise in him. But he bit back the thought - he couldn't tell Charles. There wasn't a way to explain. How -

" - she died that night to protect us." Charles didn't seem to notice Harry's momentary lapse. "If nothing else, we know that she was brave. That she loved us."

Harry couldn't meet Charles' eyes. What could he say to him? Suddenly, he felt as if he'd never known the woman who'd been his mother. The distance between them was a chasm that swallowed him up in the darkness.

"But it must have been worse for you," Charles said suddenly. He walked into the room and sat down on the bed. "You didn't get to even know any of the family growing up with those muggles."

He swallowed.

"Did Dad get a chance to talk to you about Mum?"

"No, not really," Harry confessed, his hand grasping at the edge of his desk. "He - um, I didn't want to bother him - he was a little worried with you in the hospital..."

"Yeah, it was strange waking up two weeks ago. It was like I'd just woken up after a long nap... except, well, it'd been a month or two." Charles laughed before turning serious. "But yeah, Dad doesn't like to talk about her much. He was in love with her... her death really broke him. Most of what I know from her Aunt Dorea and Uncle Charlus told me - actually..." He paused, and looked at Harry. "I haven't been in there in a while, but Uncle Charlus used to keep some of her things in his study. I don't think anyone's touched it since he passed away. Why don't we go take a look?"

"Right now?" Harry asked awkwardly, thrown off. "Is your - is Dad okay with us going in there?" The word felt heavy on his tongue.

"Oh, yeah, of course." Charles shrugged. "Come on. It's no big deal."

 _It's just nerves_ , Harry told himself as he followed Charles out of the room. _Just nerves._ But the twist in his stomach wouldn't let up.


	27. With the pale cast of Thought

"With the pale cast of Thought"

Charles pushed the door to the study open without a second thought, but Harry paused behind him. He hadn't been up to that floor yet. Well, really that side of the house. Whereas the bare walls of the wing they'd placed him in echoed with overwhelming silence, this area was... opulent, one might say. Charles had greeted some of the portraits as he walked down the hall with an easy familiarity that threw Harry off. None greeted him, though he noticed one or two of them eyeing him.

"What are you waiting for?" Charles raised an eyebrow, looking back over his shoulder. "Come on in."

Maybe he'd misread the Potters. Sirius hadn't minded if he came into his study, though there were a few times he'd locked the door...

Harry stepped into the study, taking it in with wide eyes. It was obviously the room of a Gryffindor, crimson stained with an unhinged air. He swallowed. Delicate floor to ceiling windows lined half of the oval room. Yet despite the sunlight that spilled into the study, the wide view that opened up onto the field and forest below, it was oddly claustrophobic. The heavy crimson curtains seemed to cut off the light, a strange bird cage.

He looked around as Charles went over to the desk. The study gleamed, not a thing out of place. Every book was placed perfectly in military precision... odd books, Harry realized, as he wandered closer to one part of the wall of bookcases. His finger traced one of the titles. It wasn't English - it wasn't any script he'd ever seen. He glanced up. None of them were. It was an odd, runic alphabet, many unreadable, the leather fraying. His hand hovered slightly as he reached an empty spot in the bookcase.

"Here we go!" Harry jumped at the sound of Charles' voice, yanking his hand back guiltily. Thankfully, Charles was busy looking through something in the desk.

Harry felt the cold settle over him.

There was a rustling noise as Charles pulled something out of the desk, but Harry wasn't paying attention. His eyes were drawn like a moth to the flame to the wand that sat perched on the desk - the desk that had not been used since Charlus Potter's passing. A wand of willow, ten and a quarter inches long.

"When did you say your Uncle Charlus passed away?" Harry tried to keep the tremor out of his voice, but Charles was still preoccupied with whatever he was pulling out of the desk.

"Oh, just about two years ago." Harry could feel the burn of Charles' gaze on him. "It's funny you spotted that," Charles continued, his voice casual. "Uncle Charlus brought the wand back just a few months before he died." Harry looked up, meeting Charles' eyes. The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

A cold swept over Harry. His hand went to his pocket reflexively - but his wand wasn't there. When was the last time he'd seen it? No, he hadn't had a chance - he hadn't done magic all summer... he never did, not in Muggle London... "What?" Harry asked, trying to force a confused frown.

"You have the _worst_ face for lying, you know?" Charles stepped out from behind the desk. "I knew you were keeping secrets the second I saw you this morning. _Merlin_ , you just lapped it all up. I bet if I'd just kept talking about dear, sweet, gentle Lily Evans you would have spilled it all at once. But I figured this would be more fun."

Harry took a step back reflexively, his mind going blank as the truth began to dawn on him. _No, no, NO._ He grasped for something, anything to help him, but all the training seemed so very far away now. Why hadn't he trusted Sirius? Severus? Tom? His mother?

"When Uncle Charlus told me he'd found my _mother_ protecting He Who Must Not Be Named in some forest, I did wonder what she'd been doing all those years." He cocked his head to the side, staring at Harry. "I guess I have my answer now. I suppose it's not too much of a surprise, that you're in Slytherin."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Charles was palming his wand now - he could stun him, couldn't he? The house was always deserted, he could run and escape before they'd notice. He just needed Charles to take his guard down. One shot. He only had one shot. "Why would our mother do something like that?"

"That woman is not my mother. She never was. Lily Evans was always a traitor," Charles said coldly. Aunt Dorea told me all about her growing up. All she was good for was her magic." He eyed Harry with disgust. "I knew you didn't have what it took. They'll see that soon enough - that you're a lying little snake, that you're not the Chosen One."

"I don't want to be the Chosen One," Harry said, shaking his head. "Take it, if that's what you want. I just wanted my family -"

Charles snorted. "Don't lie. I saw your eyes this morning at breakfast. The way you've always looked at me... you thought I didn't know who you were, but I remember you. Always watching me. Always wanting to be me. But you think they'll want you now?" Harry raised his hand, sensing his opportunity as Charles began to grow agitated. "When I tell Aunt Dorea -"

Nothing happened.

Charles sneered. "What? Forget your -"

Harry was about to try again, but something pressed into the back of his spine. He froze. He hadn't even heard her come in.

"Enough of that, Charles," Dorea said sweetly.

From Charles' shocked face, Harry guessed he hadn't discussed it with her. "But he -"

"Oh, I know all about Mr. Steward here." Dorea pressed her wand further into the nape of Harry's neck. "Now, why did you have to go and ruin my plans?"

 _Plans?_ Harry reached deep inside of himself, desperately looking for the magic he'd stupidly forgotten, the training he'd given up on, but it wasn't there.

 _What had she done?_

"But Dad said _he_ was the Chosen One. He said -"

"James lets emotion get into his head too much. Do you really think I would have let some filthy little snake be the Chosen One?" Hope bloomed on Charles' face, his eyes looking past Harry, some sick gleam. "... But you had to go and stage that frightful little public spectacle." Slowly, the smile disappeared from Charles' face. Dorea motioned Harry forward, forcing him into a chair. With a wave of her wand, ropes sprung from the chair, forcing him still.

"But I'm the Potter heir," Charles pleaded. "You always told me - you told me, growing up, you told me - how you planned, how you chose her, how you chose _me_ -"

Dorea glanced at him with undisguised disgust. "But you're not the heir," she said coldly. "You didn't complete the ritual. And now, Dumbledore's whispering that maybe it's not a Potter - maybe it was that idiot Longbottom child who was meant to the be the Chosen One, and I. Can't. Have. _That_."

Rage replaced the shock on Charles' face, and with an angry shove, he pushed past Harry. Dorea closed the door with a flick of her wand.

"Harry." Dorea pushed his hair back out of his face with a gentle hand, her fingers settling on the side of his face. The familiar sweet smile blossomed on her face. "I really didn't mean for us to talk this way, but I suppose what's done is done... now, how do we move forward?" The grip around his neck began to tighten. "I'd like us to be friends, Harry."

Harry looked at her in shock. This was the woman who'd called him a filthy snake just moments before... but the rage in her voice had disappeared. He searched her face, but there was nothing there.

She looked back at him with a touch of curiosity. "I had such high hopes for you, even when I saw you were a Slytherin," Dorea said, disappointment entering her voice. "And when you mentioned that silly muggle - how could you be a real Slytherin? Surely it'd just been a mistake. I could work with a Slytherin. But I had to check, you understand."

Realization hit him like a bullet. _Petunia_. Merlin, he'd given them everything they needed. James had known where the Dursleys lived - even if they hadn't found her, Vernon had stalked her in the past, he hated her, he would have sung like a bird. "Don't you _dare_ -"

"Don't worry," Dorea said gently, as if trying to reassure him. "Once she told me everything I needed to know, I let her die. I gave her an easy way out. She didn't suffer." She beamed, happy with herself, but then frowned. "But you left out quite a bit, Harry. Lily raising you? Growing up in the house of the Blacks? Oh, dear. It was a bit of a shock, I'll admit. Of course, Charlus had told me darling Lily was alive - and a nasty little shock _that_ was - but I hadn't quite expected... this." She tilted his head back, a finger grazing his cheek.

Harry swallowed, but he pushed past the pain threatening in his neck. "I don't know -"

"We're past that," Dorea said with a wave of her hand. "Do stop protesting, it's most irritating. Unfortunately," she mused, her thoughts disappearing on a tangent, "I can't question the Black girl to really get the details... But that's only a minor annoyance. The real question is, Harry, what to do with you." She paused.

Panic began to rise in him. _What had she done to Fia?_

"It doesn't need to be like this, Harry," the witch said softly. Her eyes found his, and she smiled gently. "You're a Potter. You're one of us... whatever poison they filled your heart with, whatever lies they put in your head... come back to us. You're our Chosen One. You would be our heir, our pride and joy, the glory of the Wizarding World."

It would have been the easy way out. Something inside of him yearned for a family - the one thing he wanted, with every fibre of his being. A real family.

But not like this.

There hadn't been any lies, any poison, and he couldn't - he wouldn't - pretend there had been.

 _A real family. Hadn't he had that, in his own way?_ And he'd thrown it all away, pushed Tom away, all in pursuit of - anger rose in him, rage at himself.

Sorrow.

Would he ever be able to tell the Dark Lord how sorry he was? A sudden drive swelled within him then. He would get out of here, he would be free - he would tell the Dark Lord himself. He had to. The Dark Lord deserved it - Tom deserved it. He had protected Harry his whole life, given him the freedom and the chance to make his choice for himself. The Dark Lord had never lied to him, never poisoned his mind.

 _He was like a father to me._

He would never turn against the Dark Lord again.

"No." Calm rage settled over him. _Stop making mistakes._ It all seemed clear now, detached, his purpose lighting the way before him. He had to escape. There could be - there _would_ be no more mistakes, no more information accidentally slipping through his lips.

 _This is war._

And he was prepared to do whatever it took to win.

Cold came over her face. "Don't give up this chance, boy. You'll swear your loyalty. An Unbreakable Vow, I want nothing less. I told Charlus he should have made that filthy little mudblood vow herself to us, but _he_ thought he knew better. I won't make his mistake twice. Should you refuse, the consequences will be... dire."

Harry stared at her. _Was that supposed to convince him?_ Her rage was there one second and gone the next, impossible to pin down. "... No?"

"Oh, dear." She sighed. "I was afraid you were going to be difficult. My own creation... and what a disappointment you've turned out to be." Dorea took her hand off of him, flexing it as she walked around the desk and taking in the view outside. Turning back to him, she huffed in annoyance and narrowed her eyes. "I know. I can tell you about your mother."

He fought back the hope that blossomed in his chest. " _No_."

"Really?" The syllables dripped from her mouth like water. "But I know how she died, Harry. Isn't that what you always wanted to know? What happened to your dear, loving mother?"

It only made him more calm, strangely.

He'd known she was dead, but it was one thing to hear it. Now he knew it. And that knowledge - the knowledge set him free. In the end, it didn't matter how she'd died. She'd died to protect him, and there was only one way to honor her.

 _What had they done to her?_ Her own creation... her own choice... it was what Ginny had said, wasn't it? Breeding.

Potter wasn't his father. He was a monster. A coward. Pathetic. _Her green eyes, her embrace as she left for the last time._ But she hadn't left. She had risked - she had given her life to protect him. _And you repaid her by making it all for nothing_ , the voice in his head reminded him.

 _But I still have a choice to change that._

"No."

They would suffer for what they did to his mother. They were not his family, and they never would be for that.

Dorea frowned, and then a sudden gleam entered her eyes. "We have your friend. Granger, isn't it? That sweet little muggleborn."

 _If they have Hermione, she won't be safe anyways_ , he tried to remind himself, but the guilt still rose in him. _She didn't say Lestrange. She doesn't know. If you swear loyalty to them, that won't protect her._ "No," he repeated, but Dorea caught his hesitation.

A smile blossomed on her face once more.

"I can work with that."

The promise was the last thing he heard as the red bolt struck him.


	28. And enterprises

"And enterprises"

Ginny took a bite of the steak, slowly turning it over in her mouth as she stared at the plate in front of her. Next to her, Charles was hotly debating something with Ron. Whatever it was, Ginny gave her thanks to the gods that it was enough to distract him from her. He'd never paid more attention to her than he had that day. If she hadn't known him since she was a child, she would have fallen for it. Every time he could hold the door open, he had. Every minute he'd asked her a new question about herself, her life, her interests. But even so, he couldn't hide the lies that lingered just underneath. It was if she was just a checklist - if he talked to her five times that day, if he held the door open twice, if he asked her about each and every class - she'd fall straight into his arms.

Merlin, he'd even tried to kiss her.

Ginny nearly gagged, trying to push the memory of her mind. She hadn't realized everyone had left the room when he cornered her, but thankfully, her mother for once had interrupted at an ideal moment.

But how was she going to escape now? Dinner was ending. Slowly, the house elves began to take away their plates. Ginny eyed the half of the steak left on her plate, but didn't protest when they collected her plate. She didn't need the glare from her mother, or the disapproval of Dorea Potter.

"Molly, join me in the sitting room." Dorea rose; she'd seemed to be in a hurry all day to talk to Ginny's mother, growing increasingly irate as she failed. Her mother seemed unhappy, but followed.

Ginny swallowed. Dorea would kick her out if she even thought of following. She glanced at the three others left. Charles and Ron were still talking. At the head of the table, James Potter looked exceptionally morose, blind to the rest of the world. Would they care if she claimed a headache? For the first time, her mother hadn't seemed to care she didn't want to spend time with Charles. Actually, it'd almost been like she was trying to keep Ginny away from Charles...

Suddenly, Charles and Ron got up from the table. She'd didn't understand why - she could barely pay attention with her heart pounding - but when they walked by her and out of the door without even a glance to her she could have cried with happiness.

Ginny let herself relax into her chair. _Can I leave now?_ If she left before they came back, she'd be able to escape for the night to her room...

"Lord Potter," she began, the words awkward in her mouth. "I -"

"Oh, Ginevra." Potter glanced up, as if he'd been jolted. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were still here. Don't you want to go with Charles and Ron? They shouldn't have left you here all by yourself."

She forced herself to take a breath as she thought of the best way to get herself out of it. "Oh, um - it's okay -" She could see his response forming in his mind. "Is everything okay, Lord Potter?" Ginny said hastily, cutting him off. "You seem a bit, uh, preoccupied."

"Oh." Potter frowned, distracted. He sighed. "I suppose you'll find out sooner or later. Harry's a bit sick and hasn't - well, with everything going on, it wasn't safe to move him to St. Mungo's. We had a private nurse come to the manor, of course, like we did for Charles, but he's... he's not getting better."

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said in shock automatically. "I - I hadn't realized - is he okay? Do they know what's wrong?"

A little bit of the weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. "Thank you," he said finally. "I hadn't - well, you're very kind to ask after him." Suddenly, something lit up in his face. "Actually, would you like to see him? Dorea didn't want him to overdo it by coming to dinner, but I think it might help him to see someone his own age. The solitude's not good for him, but - he - um - well, with him being a, you know, he doesn't really know a lot of the right kids."

"Of course I can," Ginny replied, trying to not sound too excited. _Harry, sick?_ It was completely plausible, but... either way, it wouldn't be good if Potter found out how well she actually knew Harry. She pushed her chair in and followed Potter out of the door and up the stairs.

Potter rapped on the door twice before pushing it open. "Here, I'll give you two some space. He might still be sleeping," he warned her, standing there awkwardly. "I, um - well, thanks."

Ginny ducked into the room, the door closing shut behind her. Something clicked - _did he lock the door?_ Sudden panic rose in her -

"Don't worry," Harry said quietly from the darkness. "The door locks automatically. Just call the house elf when you want to leave, that's what the nurse does."

"Harry?" She took a step cautiously into the darkness, her eyes still adjusting. "Where - ow." Ginny rubbed her leg where it'd connected with the heavy bed frame.

"Right here." But Ginny didn't really need the help now as she felt her way around the bed to the side Harry was nestled on. "Hey," he said weakly. Ginny could just make out a small smile on his face. Swallowing, she noticed his pallor.

"You're not sick, are you?"

"Is that what they said?" He snorted, but then started coughing. "Sure. Sick. I guess you could call it that."

"No, just Pott - your dad," she amended. "Dorea and Charles didn't mention you. But he was worried. He was really upset -"

"He can be upset all he wants," Harry said harshly. "He's still -" He let out another cough that racked his body. "It doesn't mean anything when he ignores -" Ginny winced at the cough.

"What do you mean?" Ginny said urgently. Catching sight of the water on the table next to him, she poured him a glass and offered it to him. But as soon as he saw it, Harry knocked it out of her hands.

"You were right," he said, his voice raspy from coughing. "Don't. Don't. She put something in there - I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. He thinks I'm crazy. He won't even visit me now."

Ginny froze. "Harry?" she said finally. "What - what did they do to you?" Panic coursed through her. _Did they - no, no, they would have questioned me already_.

"They did something to my magic." His voice was quiet. "Bound it, I think. They don't know everything, but they found out I lived with the Blacks - Merlin, Ginny, I led them straight to it... Dorea wants to swear an Unbreakable Vow. When she found out, she went ballistic, she won't ever let me out of here without it. She needs it to be voluntary, but that doesn't mean they can't threaten me into it. Dorea said something about Fia -"

"She escaped," she rushed to reassure him. "The - the Dark Lord's followers, they rescued a lot of the Slytherins this summer on the train ride home. She's fine. I think. She's likely with her family - oh," she said suddenly, realization hitting her. "They didn't tell you, did they? About the train, about Azkaban?"

"Merlin." Harry's tone lightened with relief. "Thank Merlin. I - I thought she might have -"

"No." Ginny shook her head. "As far as I know, she's safe. But -"

"They have Hermione, don't they?" Harry pushed himself up slowly, shaking his head when Ginny tried to help. "Dorea mentioned it," he said grimly. "Do you know where she is? What they're doing?"

Ginny perched herself on the side of his bed. Harry was shaking from the effort, his forehead and hair slick with sweat, but he held her gaze readily. "She's not at the Order - sorry," she amended. "The Order. It's what Dumbledore's followers call themselves, the Order of the Phoenix. Their headquarters. I think she might be at Hogwarts, but I can't - they won't really tell me anything."

"Sounds familiar." He let out a weak chuckle before turning serious. "Ginny - I - I'm sorry. I should have listened to you -"

"It's okay," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't think they were going to do this."

"No," he said softly. "Not this. But - well, I'm sorry for not listening to you this time, but I meant at Hogwarts. You were - I made assumptions I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

Ginny nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Ginny, I need you to do something." Harry looked at her, taking a breath before continuing. "I need you to get a message out if you can. To the Dark Lord. You're the only one who can... and he'll trust you. But I know it's a lot to ask - and your family -"

"Don't worry about my family," Ginny said. "Fuck them." She meant every word - she had no doubt about that - but a sudden panic still rose in her. "I..."

"Take a note," Harry said, mistaking the reason for her nervousness. "They'll know it's from me, it'll help you. Here - I - can you bring me a quill and parchment?"

His hands shook as Ginny pressed them into his grasp, but he managed to scratch something out. Harry looked it over once, folding it a second after and pressing it into her hands. Ginny turned it over, placing it in her pocket as she moved the quill back to the desk. "Please," he said feverishly. "The note - if they catch you, it won't get you in trouble. Admit to nothing. I won't say a word about you, I swear it."

"I know -"

"Ginevra?"

Panic washed over both of them.

"Ginevra, what are you doing in here?" Light flooded in from the hall as Dorea glared at her from the doorway.

Ginny blinked, wincing as she tried to adjust. "Lord Potter thought it might help if I visited Harry," she said, trying to keep her voice as soft as possible. _I won't say a word about you._ "He was asleep, but I thought -"

"Ah." But Dorea's voice seemed to lose its frantic edge. "Well, come along then. Your mother's waiting for you."

Ginny followed Dorea mutely. Thankfully, she didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation or lecture. Finally, they arrived at the Weasleys' rooms for the night.

The familiar click of the lock sounded behind her as she walked into her room. A second later, Dorea's footsteps disappeared.

Ginny took a long look out of her window. Outside, the moon illuminated the field and forest below, as if leading the way. No one and nothing was outside. Around her, everything was silent. Not a thing was awake in the house. Nothing to stop her way.

But her hand hovered, letting the curtain slip from her grasp.

* * *

"Ginny - where were you last night?" her mother demanded, entering her room from the connecting doorway when she heard Ginny get out of bed. "I was worried sick - Charles and Ron said you'd run off -"

"Lord Potter asked me to visit Harry. He's sick." Her voice was blank as exhaustion hit her. She'd tossed and turned all night, but sleep wouldn't come.

"Oh," her mother said hesitatingly, pausing near the doorway as Ginny grabbed some of her clothes out of the dresser. "And what do you think of the - of Harry?" she asked abruptly.

"He's nice, I guess." Ginny racked her head. What would she say, if this really was the first time she'd met him? "He's - well, he was asleep. But the last time we spoke, he was nice enough."

"Mhm." Ginny swallowed. Had she said something wrong? "I - well. I know there's been some talk of Hogwarts shutting down this year. But Lady Potter - Lady Potter, your father and I feel you should go back."

Ginny turned her head quickly, staring at her mother in shock at the abrupt announcement. "But - I - I thought you said it wasn't safe?" She winced inside as soon as the words passed her lips, but it was too late to stop it. _What if she changes her mind?_ She'd been an idiot last night - she should have left then, before anyone knew there was something wrong, but if she was sent to Hogwarts - she could escape. There was never any security.

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry," her mother said reassuringly. "Albus has assured us the school will be safe - there will be tracking wards placed over the entirety of the school. No one will be able to get in or out, I promise you. You'll be leaving this afternoon." Her mother misunderstood the look on Ginny's face. "I know it's short notice, but Lady Potter is going to let us use their floo. It'll be perfectly safe, I assure you. Much safer than ours."

* * *

Hermione looked up at the clock out of the corner of her eye. _Ten more minutes_. But the slow click as the hand passed each minute seemed like an eternity. As usual, McGonagall wouldn't even meet her eye.

"Dismissed," the professor finally said, her voice curt. Hermione left the parchment on her desk and swung her bag over her shoulder. McGonagall probably wouldn't even read it. She'd barely pretended to care all summer, why would that change now? Still, it'd taken her a month to break out of the habit of actually giving a damn about the assignment.

As she made her way down to the dungeons, Hermione pretended not to see the glances a few of the portraits gave her. After that first week of the summer "apprenticeship", it'd become clear who'd been told to watch her.

 _At least they didn't make me change dormitories_ , she thought to herself grimly as she arrived at the entrance to Slytherin. The loneliness was driving her insane, but at least it was solitary in a place that was still her own -

" _Hermione_?"

A dark blur slammed into her as she ducked into the common room. For a moment, Hermione couldn't respond, left dumb by the sight and noise of other Slytherins. _It's September first_ , she realized suddenly. But - but they let them come back? _I'm not alone anymore?_

Tracey took a step back, but the smile that lit up her face was marred by the dark circles under her eyes. "You're here," she said with a beam. "Merlin - I thought they'd have dragged you off to Azkaban by now. I -"

"Where are the rest of the students?" Hermione asked, frowning as she started to take in the room. A few were here and there, but - "Harry? Draco? None of the..."

Tracey nodded, her dark eyes watching Hermione. "I... there's a lot to explain. Maybe let's go sit down first?"

* * *

"Why is he still here?"

Severus rolled his eyes in his mind as James' sneering voice cut through the room, sitting down between Bill Weasley and Alastor near the end of the table.

"Now, now, James," Albus said, his voice benign. "Severus is a valued member of the Order. Severus, please inform us about the situation."

 _And I'm sure he'll have some reason to send me out as soon as I finish_ , Severus thought to himself grimly. No matter. The Dark Lord needed him to stay and spy, and that was what he would do.

"The students have arrived in the dormitory and are being kept there for the moment," Severus said curtly. "There have been no issues yet."

" _Yet_ ," Molly said darkly. "Why are they at Hogwarts at all? You're placing all of the other students at risk -"

"Molly, Molly." Albus smiled at the redheaded woman over his half moon glasses. "Do not worry yourself. The students in Slytherin will be confined to their dormitories except for class -"

"So you're going to let them just plot in their dungeon?" James demanded. "Did Severus come up with that stupid idea? I'm sure he'd -"

"It was _not_ Severus' idea," Albus said patiently. Severus smirked inwardly. It most certainly _was_ his idea. "Minerva suggested it."

"I believe this will be the best way to keep the students in line while ensuring the safety of our other students." Minerva was stiff in her seat, pointedly looking away from Severus. "Hogwarts is the only place for the, ah, recovered students."

"The Death Eaters," said James coldly. "They're not students, they're Death Eaters -"

"He Who Must Not Be Named may have simply kidnapped them to hold their parents in line -"

Alastor growled. "We should have killed the parents. No way to fight a war, just taking prisoners."

"Don't be absurd, Alastor." Outrage threaded each of Minerva's words. "We do not kill. We will _not_ stoop to their level, and we will win this war because we are on the right side of it. We have the Chosen One, after all."

"Yes, the Chosen One." Severus studied Albus' face. What was the old headmaster hiding? "James, how is our boy? Is his... training progressing?"

 _Why isn't Albus training Harry?_ He'd been deeply involved with Charles, summoning the boy to private sessions throughout the school years.

But he hadn't said Harry. He'd said our boy.

No name. Nothing to tie them to Harry.

"At home," James said, clearly unwilling to reveal anything more.

Severus kept his face expressionless, but thoughts began to race through his mind with a frantic panic. Harry, at the Potter Mansion? An unpleasant feeling began to grow inside of him... it was too much like Lily for comfort. Alone, and kept away from all.

But Charlus Potter was dead. And as much as she despised the coward, Lily had said James hadn't been aware of what was going on. Sirius had said the same. Dorea wasn't a brewer either, nor much of a talented witch. One of the worst brewers, in fact, he'd ever come across. No, the work had been all Charlus', regardless of Dorea's support.

He still couldn't shake his growing panic.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. The support means a lot and I hope you're all enjoying it!**

 **\- Alexye**


	29. Of great pitch and moment

"Of great pitch and moment"

The slow march of the students echoed through the dungeons, but Hermione had long since tuned it out. It was better not to show emotion anyhow. The teachers were always watching.

Finally, they made it to the common room. The students dispensed to their rooms silently, any chatter driven out by the everlasting fear that they were being watched. _If they weren't for the Dark Lord before, this will almost certainly drive them to him_ , Hermione thought to herself as she made her own way to her room. Even Tracey's eyes held a growing anger in them. Dumbledore's stupidity disgusted her. Hermione never could stand idiots, but this surely had to be the worst mistake they'd made. They thought they'd forced the Slytherins into submission, they took their lack of protest for acceptance of their victory. They'd find out how wrong they were soon enough.

Hermione shut the door behind her with a soft click. Motioning to the girl on the bed to stay silent, she ensured the room was warded sufficiently with a wave of her wand.

Finally, they were free to speak. "I didn't think you'd be able to come," Hermione admitted.

"I nearly didn't." Ginny scowled. "They're watching me like a hawk in Gryffindor, but it's only for safety. They don't suspect I'd do something like, oh, I don't know, cavort with the enemy."

"Mhm." Hermione tossed her cloak over the desk and leaned against it. "How long do you have then? You didn't say why you wanted to talk."

The red head took a breath. Hermione didn't miss the hesitation in her voice. _She's changed since last year._ "I - I saw Harry a few weeks ago."

" _What?_ " Hermione felt hope course through her for the first time before realization hit her. If Ginny had seen him... "Where? How?"

"The -" Ginny opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. "I saw him at -"

Hermione shook her head. "Don't bother," she said grimly. "It's probably under a Fidelius charm. How was he, otherwise?"

Ginny grimaced. "It's... how much do you know of Harry?" she asked abruptly.

"Not much. I knew he grew up with muggles..." Hermione's voice trailed off. "That's not right, is it?" she asked, her voice quiet.

The Gryffindor hesitated. "No," she admitted. "He's - well. It turns out he's actually a Potter. The Chosen One, in fact."

Hermione leaned back further on the desk, steadying herself. She had to take a second to breathe.

"That's... well. That's definitely... I thought - well..." Her voice trailed off. "It's not important now," she added quietly. "Why haven't they said anything though? Everyone still speaks about Charles."

Ginny bit her lip. "I don't know why they haven't said anything," she admitted quietly. "But they - somehow this summer, they found out... well. That's he's not the Gryffindor they want him to be. They're holding him, they made him sick somehow. He can't use his magic."

"They bound it?" Hermione felt rage pulse through her as Ginny nodded. "That's disgusting. That is - Merlin, Ginny, we have to get him out of there. Do you know how much danger he's in? If they bound his magic - there's potions and spells that'll do that, but it's not meant to be long term..."

"He asked me to go to the Dark Lord," Ginny admitted, not quite meeting Hermione's eyes now. Hermione eyed the girl with some empathy.

"Why were you able to see him?"

She shrugged. "The same story as usual. They wanted me to marry Charles a few years back, now I suppose Dorea - sorry, Harry's great aunt - she's... she's awful - I think she wants me to marry Harry."

"You're a teenager." Hermione couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice. " _Marriage_? Why?"

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes. "She's obsessed with breeding. There's some old lore - oh, right, you grew up in the muggle world. I'm the seventh child with red hair. There's old superstitions about red hair and when you're born and, ah... well, some people still believe them. Anyways, she wants me to marry one of them."

Hermione couldn't find the words for a moment. "That's _absurd_ ," she pointed out finally. "You - what, she wants some sort of super magical child? That's - that's not how genetics work. Someone does realize that, right?"

"She's not really the person you argue with," Ginny said, hesitating. "She... um, she's..."

"Are you going to go to the Dark Lord?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. Ginny relaxed noticeably. _What had this woman done?_ But there wasn't time to ponder that now.

"He's the only one who'll be able to help." Ginny glanced up. "Help Harry. Help you."

"He can help you too," Hermione pointed out, studying the girl. "If you want it."

"Yeah." Ginny swallowed. "I know."

"You don't have to be the one to do this."

"No." Ginny's voice gained strength. "I should go. I'm going to go." She looked Hermione dead on, her gaze steady. "I'm going to go," Ginny repeated. "But I need your help in figuring out how."

"They've sealed the doors," Hermione said slowly, the gears turning slowly in her mind. "There are secret passages in and out of the castle, but they're likely watching those -"

"There's one they can't," interrupted Ginny. "It's in the Chamber of Secrets. I know it leads out past the Forbidden Forrest."

"The Chamber? From second year?"

Ginny nodded, breathing deeply. "Yeah."

"Let me guess," Hermione said dryly. "I don't know the full story."

"Something like that." Ginny laughed. "The point is, there's some sort of entrance to the Chamber in the Slytherin dorms. There's no way they know about it. But I never knew where it was - Harry used it to escape the Chamber, but he - he passed out, and we never found it again. I know Harry was searching, but -"

"Wait, he passed out?" Hermione had a spark of realization. "This was second year? The end of the year?"

"Yeah, from some sort of magical backlash when he was leaving -"

"I know where it is." Hermione said, her voice flush with excitement. "I mean, I think I do - I found him in one of the corridors down here - I thought he just hadn't slept enough, so I got Professor - well, it doesn't matter." She took a breath, trying to calm herself. "It's just down this passage. No one uses it anymore, it's the oldest part of the dormitory -"

"Let's go," Ginny said determinedly. "I'm leaving tonight," she explained in response to Hermione's unasked question. "I'm ready. I'm not risking losing this chance again."

"If you're sure." But as the Gryffindor got up to follow her out of the room, Hermione noticed she was wearing a heavy, unmarked cloak and regular clothes. _She really means it._ She was prepared to leave.

"This way," Hermione said softly, keeping an eye out for other Slytherins as they slipped down the hallway into greater darkness. She didn't dare to light her wand, instead relying on the intermittent light that trickled down from the common room. There was no point in leaving witnesses, no matter how loyal they wanted to be.

Finally, she stopped at the break in the wall she'd found Harry collapsed at while she'd been exploring the lower levels. "I..." she motioned, feeling useless.

"This is it," Ginny said, stepping forward, her hand reaching toward something on the wall. _Snakes_ , Hermione realized. Barely noticeable, but they were there, carved deep into the wall.

Ginny hissed and the wall began to move.

"Don't worry," Ginny said, stepping back next to her. Hermione eyed the wall uncomfortably. "See. There we go." The new hole revealed nothing, only darkness. "Come on," Ginny told her, leading the way in.

The two were silent as they made their way through the passage. Behind them, the wall moved back into place, the stones cutting off the light of Slytherin dormitories behind them. But soon enough a new light began to grow at the end of the tunnel, and slowly, they reached the end.

Hermione gasped. She couldn't help herself.

"How is this beneath Hogwarts?" she asked in awe, taking in the magnificence of the chamber around her. "How does - I heard the stories, but why..."

"Because Slytherin made it," Ginny said, turning to face her. "I - the passage is down that way. Hermione, can - do you want to come with me?"

"No." Hermione shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. "It'll be better if they don't think it's connected. Besides, there's a tracking spell on me - the second I leave, they'll know." She steeled herself. "No. Leave. We've already lost a few days. The sooner you can get help, the better for all of us. Do you know where to go?"

"Not exactly," admitted Ginny. "I've tried listening in on Order meetings, but they're not sure either -"

"It's probably under a Fidelius too, at any rate," Hermione said with a sigh. "What are you going to do?"

Ginny bit her lip. "I have an idea where they might be," she admitted. "Past that - well, make a run for it. Try not to get caught."

"Okay." Hermione felt a lump grow in her throat. "Can - um, if - if you see my parents - and... well, my cousins, I guess. My family. Draco. Fia. All of them."

"I'll tell them," Ginny assured her, and pulled her in for a hug. "Don't worry."

"I'm not," Hermione mumbled, pressing her face into Ginny's hair as she tried not to get too emotional. "Tell them I'm fine. Tell them - tell them I'm fighting."

"I will." Ginny pulled back, glancing between her and the passageway. "Hermione - do you know how to get back?"

"Not really," she admitted. "What did you do?"

Ginny laughed, and let loose a hiss. Hermione tried to mimic it, but it took her a few times. "There you go," Ginny said encouragingly. "That's it."

"You should get going," Hermione reminded her. "Before it gets too late."

She watched the Gryffindor make her way out of the chamber, noting the spot she disappeared to. When that red hair was finally out of sight, she began to look around the room speculatively. "I can work with this," she told herself, her voice grim as the plans began to form in her mind.

* * *

Harry pushed himself up in the armchair, his body aching with the unrelenting fever. He eyed the food on the platter with a grimace. If he didn't eat, they'd force feed him. But if he did... if he did, the poison would take greater hold.

With a shaking hand, he moved some of the food on the plate, drawing the fork across the peas. His stomach growled angrily.

Someone knocked. The door opened a second later. "Oh, good." James paused at the entrance to the room. "You're eating."

Harry let the fork settle on the plate, nodding in response.

"Good, good." Harry didn't need to look up to know that James was smiling like an idiot. "I - uh - it's good to see you're getting your appetite back. The nurse said it'd help."

"Yeah." Harry tried to sound more enthusiastic, but he didn't quite succeed.

"Are you feeling any better?" James came closer, forcing Harry to look up.

"A bit." Harry swallowed. "I -"

"It's good to see you're no longer hallucinating," James said, cutting him off in a hurry. "You - well, you probably don't remember. You don't remember, do you?" he added quickly. His eyes bore into Harry, seeking validation.

 _Hallucinating. Right._ "No." The lie came out of him easily.

James beamed again. "Good, good. I'm glad you're doing better." He nodded to himself. "Well, I have to head out, but - don't worry, Harry. You'll be better soon. And we'll train. You're the Chosen One. We need you to be better soon."

Harry watched the wizard nearly run out of the room with a cold anger. _Hallucinating._ _Need._ They didn't want him. They only needed him.

He'd been an idiot not to see it sooner, but he would never be so stupid again.

* * *

She'd managed to get pretty far into the castle without getting caught, actually.

The entrance into it had been right where Tom had told her - a hidden cave, only accessible during low tide. The door into the passage had been rusty with years of disuse, but she'd managed to get it open. Only the rats made noise as she made her way up and in. Terror overcame her at points, the deathly silence overwhelming, but she kept walking.

They'd caught her about five minutes out of the passage, but at least she was in. _And at least it was a house elf who'd caught her, not a Death Eater_. Otherwise she'd probably be wasting away in a dungeon, instead of at the door to the Dark Lord's - study? Study seemed too naive of a word, though -

The house elf shoved her in before she had a chance to finish the thought.

She gulped, keeping her gaze to the floor, as the darkness met her.

 _What if Tom's not there at all?_ No, no, she couldn't let that panic overtake her again - not now, not when she was so -

"What is your name?"

Ginny flinched a little, but her eyes were drawn upward by the power in that voice.

"Gin - Ginevera Weasley, my Lord," Ginny said, trying her best not to let her fear show. That the library was almost empty did not help. Lord Voldemort sat by the fire, flanked on either side by Sirius and Bellatrix Black.

"My Lord?" Lord Voldemort asked silkily. "I was unaware that I was my lord to you, girl." Bellatrix Black snorted next to him. _Was it Lestrange, now?_

"I – I'm sorry," Ginny blurted out, trying to get the words out before it was too late, but tripping over herself unhelpfully in the meantime. "When I met you before - I - you went by another name… but you warned me never to call you that again..."

Lord Voldemort's gaze froze her, but she raised her head to meet his eyes. He wasn't what they said he would be, she noticed. She'd expected worse. As much as she trusted Tom... it was still hard not to be terrified of the monster they all spoke of.

Despite his age, he didn't look to be more than forty. His face was unlined, a marble statue brilliant in its cold beauty. Had she met him prior, there would have been no mistaking who Tom was. But the resemblance to Harry was what was most uncanny.

"Yes," He said at last. "Ginny Weasley. You were quite brave to trust me. A brave and foolish first year."

"Not foolish now, my Lord," she told Him. "Please. Ha – our mutual friend asked me to come."

"You mean Harry," Lord Voldemort whispered, but his whispers had an odd way of cutting through the room. Ginny began to feel the full effects of his aura, one that should have felt so naturally abhorrent to her own… yet it was instead a strange comfort. Nostalgic, even.

"Yes," she answered, glancing at his two Death Eaters, but Lord Voldemort did not dismiss them.

"And why would the Light's new champion ask you to come to me?" He asked, his voice now turning cruel. "Is he too scared to come to face me on his own, that he would send a mere child as his emissary?"

"No," she whispered. "He wasn't allowed."

"And you were allowed to come to the Dark Lord, child?" Sirius Black's voice had turned oddly gentle.

"Yes – I mean, no," she said hurriedly. "They don't know I've gone. They won't miss me. Please, my Lord," she begged, "he asked me to give you this." The paper nearly fell from her fingers as she pulled it out of her robe.

Bellatrix took it from her and handed it to the Dark Lord, who glanced at it. His eyes flashed up to hers. "Harry gave you this?" he demanded.

"Yes," she answered, biting her lip. "The last time I was able to see him. He's at –" but the words wouldn't fall from her tongue.

"They've made it secret," Fia's father told her. "Their headquarters?"

She nodded, grateful for the help. The two Death Eaters looked at each other. "Likely where they're keeping your daughter as well," Sirius told her grimly. "Ginny, did you happen to see Hermione Granger there?"

"Yes," she told them. "She helped me to escape - but she isn't at - she's at Hogwarts. She helped me escape through the Chamber of Secrets..." Her voice trailed off. This wasn't the time to pass along the message, though, even as she saw Lestrange's face darken. "My lord, Harry - the Potters. They've bound his magic -"

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped. " _What?_ " the Dark Lord demanded, the anger clear in his voice. Fia's father, she noticed, had turned white with rage.

Ginny needed no reminder that this wasn't Tom, that this was the Dark Lord. "They found out he grew up with the Blacks, my lord." She kept her voice steady. Harry needed her now, and she'd already failed him. "He said they want an Unbreakable Vow."

Sirius murmured something to Bellatrix, but she kept her eyes on the Dark Lord. He held her gaze, but he didn't try to read her mind. She swallowed, guilt running through her as she saw the cold rage growing in him.

Lord Voldemort raised a hand, silencing them all. "Bellatrix, summon the Inner Circle. I would meet with them." He looked at Ginny. "Sirius, show Miss Weasley here to Miss Black's room." The two Death Eaters nodded their assent, Sirius waiting for Ginny as he turned to leave the room. She followed after a moment's hesitation.

"One last thing, Ginny," the Dark Lord commanded. She froze, her hand just touching the doorknob. "How did you manage to make it this far into my castle uncaught?"

Ginny smiled. "You taught me how, my Lord." And as she left the library, she heard a whisper of a laugh behind her.

* * *

"Sirius." The Dark Lord's voice rang out through the room, silencing the whispers.

"Yes, my Lord?" Sirius knelt before the Dark Lord's throne, his face hard and unreadable.

"Take Rosier, Lestrange and Malfoy. Destroy their house and them. Leave no one alive." Sirius nodded, but as he rose to carry out his Lord's command, the Dark Lord spoke once more, his order a whisper. "No one else on that street is to be harmed, Sirius. Make an example of them."

"Yes, my Lord." And Sirius bowed to him with a glimmer of a cold smile, then turned to leave the room, his robe whipping through the air behind him as Lord Voldemort's most trusted bowed and followed.

"Bellatrix," He ordered. The dark-haired woman slipped forward from the crowd and kneeled. "I suspect Sirius will find some of the Order. I trust you know how to properly perform a tracking spell?" It wasn't a question; he had taught her how to break the Fidelius himself.

"Of course, my Lord," she said.

"Good," he whispered. "Then let us give them a reason to flee. Goyle, Crabbe, Zabini, Parkinson, Greengrass, wait for the signal," he ordered, rising from his throne.

In his pocket, the note from Harry burned like a fire.

 _Please, my lord._


	30. With this regard

"With this regard"

Harry stared at the fireplace in the library. He hadn't tried to leave for over a month now, but that still hadn't stopped Dorea from forcibly destroying the Floo connection into the manor and, for good measure, the Floo powder. Behind him, the clock ticked slowly.

"Good evening, Harry," Dorea Potter cooed sweetly, the door swinging shut behind her. "Oh, you're feeling warm tonight," she said in a tone that could have been mistaken for worry. Her hand slipped over his forehead, forcing his head back. "You must eat something," she told him.

"Yes, Lady Potter," Harry mumbled, still drowsy from the potions in his lunch. He'd managed to avoid one or two bites, but it was getting harder each day to resist the effects.

Dorea smiled at him, but it didn't meet her eyes. "Just be a good boy," she whispered in his ear, giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Agree to swear the oath, and you'll be free." But her smile turned to a frown when Harry didn't respond immediately, and she threw his head down.

That was the nice thing about the potions, Harry noted slowly. They did dull the pain. But even if she had thrown a Crucio at him, he still would have told her no.

Dorea Potter stalked out of the room. She was losing patience, she'd made that much clear. What would happen when she no longer was willing to wait?

Slowly, Harry lifted himself from the couch and staggered over to the mantelpiece. His hands groped the right side indelicately until he found the marks. _One, two, three, four, five, six..._ he counted, all the way over thirty. Over a month. Over two. A shudder ran through him as he made his way back to the couch and fell in, grateful not to have to stand any more. If they caught her… no, she wouldn't have told of her own free will, and even if she had, they would have punished him by now. Or Dorea would have, at least. She couldn't hold her temper in for that long, she wasn't capable of it.

But there were a million other things that could have gone wrong. Ginny could have been caught by Death Eaters and kept from the Dark Lord, or worse... he had no knowledge what had happened in the months since he'd left Hogwarts. Was the world still spinning? The only indication he ever had was how angry James was when he came back, how gleeful Charles seemed that day. They were fighting a war, but no one would say who was winning.

Maybe she was sitting in a dungeon now, cold and alone and afraid. Or maybe she was dead.

Maybe Tom didn't care about him anymore. Maybe he never cared.

Harry felt a wave of despair and hurt wash over him at that moment, and even worse was the guilt that followed that somehow that prospect was worse than the idea of Ginny lying dead somewhere.

 _If only he had magic_ … but even with magic, there would have been nothing he could have done. The despair hit him again, and harder.

"Please, Tom," he whispered, though no one could answer.

For a second he thought he heard – felt? – a call answer back, but it was nothing. He was alone. Hurt rolled over him. He had had a family, and he pushed them away. There was only himself to blame.

Harry pushed himself back up into a sitting position, feeling a wave of nausea run over him. He ignored it. He'd tried puking a few times, but it was always too late. His body absorbed the potion the moment he ate the poisoned food.

But – he looked at his hand. It was shaking less than this morning. If he could avoid eating all of the meals… there would be a chance. And sometimes they left the house. He'd have to wait it out, though. _Was this how mother had felt? Trapped? Desperate?_ But she had fought. He had to fight, too.

Yelling erupted in the main hall. Someone was yelling. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in the side of his head. Harry groaned. He hated when they yelled.

But he got up anyways. Whatever they were yelling about, it might help. Slowly, he pulled himself up towards the door to the library. It was inched open, but it didn't matter anyways. Dorea had prevented anyone from apparating inside the house. She didn't like the idea.

He paused as he looked out onto the foyer. Two men had limped in, one holding the other. Blood was there, he noticed. They were dripping blood onto the carpets… Dorea would be so upset.

"Who?" A voice rung out on the other side – McGonagall, Harry dully realized. His old professor came into view a second later. It was odd seeing her like that, all dressed in plain robes with no hat. It took him a second to realize she was dressed for battle.

"Black led the attack," Bill Weasley announced, his face white, as he lifted one of the other Order members into a chair. "We didn't have a chance."

"Black?" McGonnagall asked. "You're sure it was him?" Now more came in through the front door, two by two. Six were there in total – six of the Order's no name fighters, bleeding from gashes that marked their skin.

"They didn't wear masks," Bill told her grimly. "None of them did. We didn't realize at first – the alarm went up, a Muggle neighborhood – we didn't expect He Who Must Not Be Named to send his best fighters…"

"For what?" McGonagall asked quietly, her face ashen. Dumbledore emerged behind her, followed by Weasley's mother, who gasped at the sight, and one or two others. James Potter came last.

"How could this have happened?" Bill's mother wailed, rushing to her son's side.

"I'm fine," he reassured her wearily. "It's only scratches. The others are worse off."

"We must be thankful they are not too badly hurt," Dumbledore announced gravely, surveying the damage. "It is a testament to their skill that they survived such a fight. Mr. Weasley, what did they attack?"

"That's what's odd," Bill replied, pushing his hair back as he leaned against a wall. "They only attacked one house on the entire street. Some place in Surrey. It was a blubber of a muggle – well, two of them, he had a son… Black made them scream. We couldn't save them."

Harry bit his lip as he started to understand Bill's words. No – no, it couldn't be… _that monster._

Suddenly, a boom echoed outside, and then several more, followed by a scream. Another wave of nausea hit Harry right then… he wouldn't be able to stand for much longer. But hope also bubbled up his chest. Hope that rose cruelly with every scream that now punctured the halls of the Potter mansion.

"They found us," Bill announced, a bit anticlimactically. "Merlin help us, they found us…"

Someone began to sob in the foyer. McGonagall looked around in slight disgust. "James, where's your son?" She looked around the foyer and spotted him out of the corner of her eye, making her way over to him. "Ah, Mr. Ste - Potter." Outside, more screams punctured the air, but then all fell silent. "We'll have several minutes before they reach the main house."

"James, take your son," Dumbledore ordered. "James will protect his son," he reassured Dorea, misunderstanding the look on her face. "He must go to Hogwarts. Charles is already safe there. The floo will have to do -"

"The floo's down," Dorea admitted unwillingly. "It wasn't safe."

Dumbledore looked at James. "You'll have to take him to outside then –"

"I could fight –" Harry cut in, but his voice was too quiet from disuse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I can fight," he told them, trying his best to keep his voice steady.

"Mr. Potter, you're in no shape to fight," McGonagall informed him. She eyed him critically. "You're still quite ill - James, you didn't say it was this bad." She cut him off from the others, he noticed. Did any of them know he was there? None of the Order's fighters seemed to see him. "You'll have to carry him."

Harry stood there, looking at her in shock. Carry him? Not when he was so close to escaping.

But James only lifted up the side of his arm to support him, and as soon as they were outside, started to drag Harry down the hill. But, as Harry realized quickly, he was still too heavy for Potter to carry lightly, and he made full use of that.

"Come on," James grunted. Behind them, screams echoed through the night. Harry dragged his feet further across the ground, letting his body fall into gravity's pull. The lights were slowly getting further away. They'd be at the barrier soon, they had to be - _no_. He couldn't -

A blast hit them, and suddenly, the battle was upon them. Harry coughed, pain racking his body as he fell on the ground. But he was free. James was no longer holding on to -

James yanked him up, pulling him by the arms. _No_. He fell back, but it was no use. Someone was yelling. He couldn't hear. All he could see were James' eyes, cold and unfeeling as they turned to him. _No._ He had to escape. Lights flashed by him, bold bursts of colors, but they wouldn't hit him.

 _He's never going to let me go_ , Harry realized, staring into the man's eyes. James' hand clenched around his arm like a dead man's grasp.

James pulled him again, hard, and he stumbled. But the older man got what he wanted - they were moving again, and -

Harry looked back, and suddenly, he saw Him. Their forces had neared the mansion, pressing forward in a overwhelming rage. He couldn't make out their faces in the darkness, but in the eye of the storm was Tom, a furious sight as he shot curse after curse at the Order.

The sight of Tom - of the Dark Lord - let loose a strength he hadn't known he had. Harry began to struggle, more desperately this time. James was yelling something, pulling him away, but he didn't listen. He fought back, fought against the tide -

Harry stared at Tom in desperation. He couldn't move, he couldn't run – how could he make Tom understand, understand before James tore him away, before this stupid mistake of his got any worse than it already had? Even with James dragging him, his legs were useless. He could barely stand as it was.

He felt more useless in that one moment than he had in his entire lifetime.

 _Please_ , he begged, trying desperately to catch Tom's eye. _Please understand_ …

His dark gaze caught him. Suddenly, something flared to life in his head, a familiar presence he hadn't felt in years.

 _Harry_.

 _Please_.

 _Do you trust me?_

"Always."

Screams erupted around him as the flames roared to life. Harry stumbled, suddenly free of Potter's grasp. A surge of power ran through him that wasn't his own; he held out his hand - was he...? Darkness threatened to overwhelm him as the power brought him to his knees, the fire roaring louder and louder around him, a warm embrace.

Someone screamed his name.


	31. Their Currents turn awry

"Their Currents turn awry"

Harry woke with cold start, his heart racing. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He had been so close -

"Harry. _Harry_. Calm down. You're fine. You're home."

Harry struggled as someone held him tighter. _No_. The darkness rose in on him. They couldn't take him away again - they wouldn't - he had been so close -

"Take off the bandages, he can't see," someone said gruffly. "Harry, wait -"

Harry hissed as light flooded his vision, blinding him again. Someone was murmuring something in his ear -

"Sirius." Harry's eyes widened as the form of the wizard came into view. " _Sirius_. Oh - you're -"

"I'm fine, Harry," Sirius said gently, leaning back on the bed. "You're fine. It's going to be alright."

Harry took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he took in the room. He was in a bed - no, dark colors. Not red. Never red. Never again. James - the Potters -

"Give us a moment," Sirius demanded. Someone was blabbering. It was too noisy, too loud -

"Harry, it's okay. It's going to be okay. Can you take a breath for me?"

Harry stared at him, trying to breathe. Nothing was working. His body wouldn't listen. His heart was racing, it was racing too fast -

"Harry, you're never going back there."

But his heart wouldn't stop, it was going to burst - it was pain, too much pain -

"Drink some water." Sirius pressed a cup to his mouth, and Harry gulped it down. Slowly, the panic subsided, but his heart wouldn't stop beating.

"Where - where are we?" Pain cut through his throat. Had he been the one screaming?

"Scotland. A castle - old, it used to belong to the Slytherin family. We'll move soon, but it's our base for now." His voice was calm, the words slow. Sirius lifted the cup to his lips again, offering another sip before he placed it to the side. "How much do you remember?"

"The -" Harry coughed. "There was darkness," he said, beginning again. "Light - a battle? Potter..."

"It's fine," Sirius said. "You might have some memory loss. That's normal. We rescued you from the Potters. You were being held there. There was a battle, but it was over quickly."

"I'm - I'm -"

"You're safe." Sirius shifted himself on the edge of the bed slightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted." Harry tried to move his legs, loosening the muscles. "I - uh -" A grumble rose from his stomach.

"You should get some food in you, if you can hold it down." Sirius rose from the bed, offering Harry his hand. Slowly, they managed to get him into more of a seated position. "You woke up briefly a few hours ago, but you didn't keep it down. I'm sure you're starving by now."

"Yes," Harry said quietly, concentrating on standing. He couldn't remember anything except the fire. Had he woken? Would he remember this?

With a shaky step, he rose from the bed. Sirius kept his touch light, but he steadied him with a hand on his back.

"You're to stand as much as you're able to," Sirius continued, helping him to a table where some food was set. Someone had dressed him, Harry realized. The pajamas felt comforting against his skin. "You need to work your muscles. But don't over do it."

Voices danced through the open doorway. "What's going on?" Harry asked, his curiosity rising as he sat down in the chair.

"A small celebration," Sirius said, bringing the food closer to Harry. "If you're up to it, you can come watch it. But let's get you some food first and then we can see how you feel. The healers think it'd be too much to be in a crowd, at any rate."

"Sirius - the... the Dark Lord."

"In his study, I believe," Sirius said quietly. When had his hair gotten so white?

"He - during the battle -"

He could feel the older wizard's eyes on him. "He brought you here himself." Sirius' voice was gentle. "Let's eat. Then we can talk."

* * *

"How is he?"

"Some memory loss, my lord. It's to be expected."

"Ah." Lord Voldemort studied the map on his desk. "And what is he doing now?"

"He's with Lord Black, my lord. He sent us out of the room when the boy woke up... the boy asked for him."

"I see," Lord Voldemort said curtly, pushing the uncomfortable feeling back down. "See to the boy again after he's eaten... yes?"

He's not in a state to be seen by anyone, my lord," he added. "The potions we had to give him will leave him giddy. He won't be able to stop himself from talking. It'll be the truth, whatever comes to his mind." The wizard shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "My lord - he requires greater help than I can provide. The damage that has been done has been substantial. I've weaned him off the worst of the potions, but he'll have some memory loss. He'll need to work up his strength again. We won't be able to tell what damage has been done to his magical core until then," the man added, keeping the nerves out of his voice.

"Yes, I know," Lord Voldemort said grimly. "Go. See to the boy for now. Notify me if there are any changes."

The door shut quietly. Yes, Harry needed more help. Help his healers couldn't provide.

With a sigh, Lord Voldemort pushed the map of Hogwarts away from him, and rose from his seat.

* * *

Harry eyed the small crowd below warily. His heart was still pounding, but it was a quieter thrum now. He'd changed into normal clothes. There'd been something about the simple act that calmed him.

Some of the figures wandering about he recognized. He spotted Draco and his parents immediately by their blonde hair. Bellatrix was there too, talking with Rhia. Others were former classmates. None of them looked up, giving him an odd sense of déjà vu.

Harry scanned the crowd uneasily, his eyes searching for -

"Harry, I'm glad you're feeling better." Sirius walked up, leaning next to him on the bannister. Harry could feel the wizard's eyes studying him. "Is everything alright?"

"I..." Harry avoided looking up, schooling his face in a neutral expression. His heart began to pound for entirely new reasons. "Sirius, could you - um, could you help me with something?"

* * *

Someone was mumbling on in front of him, but he wasn't paying attention. Lord Voldemort eyed the spot he'd seen Harry and Sirius disappear from with a frown, deaf to the noise around him. He'd come out as a perfunctory gesture, nothing more. With a silent growl, he turned and walked out of the room. Silence fell for a moment before the party resumed, his followers used to his dislike for large gatherings.

He only avoided slamming into the boy waiting in his office by a mere second.

The two of them froze.

"Harry," Lord Voldemort said finally. Only then did the boy look up.

Anger rushed through him. Harry was thin, dangerously so. He'd left the boy with the healers as soon as they'd apparated into the castle, but Harry had been unconscious, and he too mad with the fever of battle to take close note. But now... the clothes hung off of his ragged frame, his eyes ringed by dark circles.

Harry flinched. _Why?_ came the question.

Lord Voldemort blinked in surprise. "I'm not angry with... ah." He swept past Harry to his chair, giving them both space. "You opened our connection again. You're able to sense my emotions," he explained.

"I..." He gestured for Harry to take the seat across the desk, waiting for the boy to finish the thought. Harry would only meet his gaze briefly, his eyes flitting away every few seconds. Pupils dilated slightly, pulse too quick. Lord Voldemort clenched one fist, but kept his anger under check. "The connection?"

"Our connection," the Dark Lord began slowly. "It's... you had closed it, over the summer." Harry shook his head, but didn't say anything. "During the battle." He kept his voice controlled. "You had no magic, but you reached out to me. I had to channel some of mine through you to wrest you away from your father -"

"He's not my father." Pure venom scorched through Harry's voice. "That man - that coward is not my _father_."

Lord Voldemort studied him. Harry shook, though whether from rage or exhaustion or illness, he couldn't tell. Likely some mix of the three.

"Why are you here?" Lord Voldemort asked finally, steeling himself. "You've made it clear you want no part in this. If you only sought my help to escape, you are free to leave. Go abroad. You'll still escape this war -"

"No," Harry said quietly, before repeating himself, his voice steeled. "No. I'm not - I want to stay. To fight. I saw the healer - I'm already feeling better. I'm _going_ to get better. And I want to make them pay for what they did. I want to help you win this war. Please..." he had to stop to take a breath. "My - my lord," he said slowly, turning the words over in his mouth.

He didn't like the sound of Harry saying those words.

"I'm sorry," the boy said slowly. "My lord, I'm so sorry. I should have trusted you. I'm sorry for pushing you away, for rejecting you - for listening to those bastards... please, let me fight for you."

He considered the boy in front of him carefully. The healer had said he'd be giddy... but that what he said would be the truth. "So that was what you wanted to talk to Sirius about."

Harry looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh. No. No, not that. I mean, we talked, but - I - um - I had to ask for his, uh, help. On something. I mean, on - um -" He swallowed, flustered. "I - the - I asked for his help with a ritual. The - agr - axo - I -" He offered a book forward with shaky hands. "I'm sorry, Sirius told me the name, but I forgot how to pronounce it."

Lord Voldemort took it wordlessly, his eyes skimming the page the tiny book had been opened to. Dark illustrations lined the runes detailing the ancient ritual, but he didn't need the help.

"I see." He looked up at Harry, placing the book back on the desk as he hardened himself. "And Sirius has agreed?"

Harry blinked. "I - what?"

"You wish for Sirius to adopt you. Not surprising, considering he raised you -"

"No," Harry cut in forcefully. "No - fuck - _no_. I - I was..." His eyes flitted away for the briefest moment, his voice audibly nervous. "Would you - would you adopt me?"

He took a breath, continuing before Lord Voldemort could say anything. The boy's eyes glanced up to meet his, wide and pleading. "Sirius was... but he didn't raise me. You did. And I was stupid, I was fucking stupid to run away the way I did - but I want to make it right. I don't want Potter to be my father. He was never a father, he abandoned me and he - but you saved me. You raised me. I'd be nothing without you. So, I... I wanted to ask." His voice became more shaky. "Unless you don't want to. And then, then I'll - I'll do something. Something to fix this. I just - I don't ever - I don't want to - not him. I don't want to be a _Potter._ " He couldn't stop himself from continuing. "But if you - if you don't, I've already found something else to fix it. Sirius helped me. I can just - I just want to be rid of him. Of them."

Lord Voldemort looked Harry over. A vague memory came back to him, of a child in darkness. Of him - of Harry - it didn't matter.

"No," he said finally, continuing as he saw the disappointment pass over Harry's face. "Not yet. You need to know the truth before you make a decision -"

"I know the truth. Enough of it. They killed my mother - Dorea told me herself..."

He let Harry's voice trailed off before he shook his head. "No, that's not all."

Harry stayed silent for a moment. "Were you there when she died?"

"Not quite," Lord Voldemort said slowly, keeping a careful eye on the boy. "I told you, she found me - something of me, at least. A part of my soul in the Dark Forest. It would have been near Yuletide."

Harry didn't respond for a moment. "I had a dream," he said finally. "Dreams. Of a forest. Bloody snow. And then -" he swallowed. "Charlus Potter died a few months after."

"Your mother was always strong."

"He took her _wand_ ," Harry said suddenly, anger rushing into his voice. "I found it, in the house." He took a breath, steadying himself. "I - there was also - Sirius said my mother - that my mother said Charles wasn't their son." He looked back up to Lord Voldemort. "What... you were there, that night."

"I was." He took a moment. "How much do you know?" he asked abruptly.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I - Dorea, she said she'd known my mother." His mouth twisted. "She - did she use the same potions on her?"

"Charlus Potter did. Dorea... Dorea used a bastardized version on you. We assumed the knowledge had died with him; he'd learned it, growing up as a Potter. Some of the older pureblood families have honed special kinds of magics over centuries. Rituals, that use your core magic -"

"You taught me that magic."

"I did," Lord Voldemort said slowly, a small burst of pride growing in him. But he stayed on the subject. "Hogwarts hasn't taught it in generations. It's allowed much of the magic to go forgotten - except by those who practice it, of course."

Something passed over Harry's face. "It's so we can't protect ourselves."

"Yes," he answered. "Knowledge is power. But even if you had known, the Potters are practicing a particularly complex type - even Orion Black didn't spot what they'd done to Sirius -"

"Sirius?" Harry's eyes shot up. "They did this to _Sirius_?"

"You should ask him," Lord Voldemort advised. "It's not a subject he particularly likes known."

Harry nodded. "What did they want with my mother?" he asked, turning back to the story.

"She was quite bright. It's not unheard of." Lord Voldemort frowned. "My mother's family was of the Slytherin line; they'd interbred for generations. Other families prefer muggleborns."

"Breeding," Harry interrupted. "Ginny - she said something similar, that the Potter family - and her red hair."

"It's old lore... some still hold to it, though not many. Red hair and the number seven have always been considered omens of magic here. You mother, of course, had red hair. A few pureblood families feel it can... excuse, if you will, the circumstances of the birth. Of their muggle heritage."

"Is it true?"

Lord Voldemort shook his head slightly. "The amount of magic anyone is born with is uncontrollable; no ritual or mating will help much. You might, of course, increase it slightly, but without taking into account the vast number of other factors that create it, you'd pay a high price for something so insignificant. What matters more is how it is molded. Magic is like any other muscle - use it, and you can grow it, shape it. Let it rot and it will rot."

Anger passed over Harry's face, but he didn't say anything more. Lord Voldemort continued. "Snape came to me, with news of a prophecy."

Harry's eyes shot up. "The prophecy Charles kept boasting of."

"Yes." He considered the boy in front of him. "Dumbledore knows of it. It was made just shortly after your birth."

Harry took a breath. "Shortly after... so the Potters didn't know of it?"

"They wanted an heir, to ensure they would lead the Light. It was a coincidence - perhaps, perhaps not - that the prophecy was made not long thereafter. But when they heard of it, the Potters moved the two of them to an unprotected house not long thereafter."

Harry looked away. "What does the prophecy say?" he asked finally.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

He watched Harry. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Yes," Harry said quietly. The boy didn't look back at him.

"I stunned Potter," he said coldly. "There's magics that can be triggered when death is involved," he added, at the look Harry shot him. "I came up the stairs, to the room your mother was. She stood over your cradle. There was another... she never told me where the boy came from, only that I had killed his mother."

"She was sick from the potions, near death. Even still, she would have fought for you. Your mother asked me to swear that I'd protect you, keep you from being a tool in this war."

"And I swore it." He looked straight at Harry when he said the words. "It was true when they said she was the brightest witch of her generation. She'd enacted an ancient type of magic, one that would bind our protections to you as surely as if I'd sworn an Unbreakable Vow. More so, in truth. She waited until I swore to it to let go. I gave her a potion. To any eye, she would have looked dead... And then I came to you."

"I don't put much faith in prophecies; they're tricky things, even when they seem so straightforward. But when I reached for you - your magic reached forward to meet mine. Our connection was formed that night. One part of the prophecy fulfilled."

"But your magic wasn't fully formed; mine would have overwhelmed you utterly and fully." He chose his next words carefully. "And so I let go... and in the process, my soul scattered. A remnant of magic I undertook long ago, to ensure that I would never truly die. It was how I remained with you. As to what happened after... in the backlash caused, I left a mark on that other boy, knowing they would take it as a sign. Our bond drained you of your magic; it wasn't restored until that night in the cupboard. Sirius had unknowingly activated one of the keys to my resurrection, bringing my soul back to... life, shall we say, and your magic as well. One of Lily's last acts that night was to lay a compulsion on you, one I cemented. One that would not have let you be killed easily. I believe when they discovered the bodies, they thought you a squib - and so left you with your mother's relatives."

Harry was silent for a long time.

"The diary," he said quietly. "In the Chamber - and then, that first year... it was like your soul just... fled."

"Yes. Your mother found a piece of my soul in the Dark Forest. With her help, I was able to reunite the pieces of my soul, to resurrect myself in this body."

Finally, Harry looked up at him. Lord Voldemort let him ask the question. The boy took a deep breath, his voice unsteady. "... How much of you is Tom, then?"

He chose his words carefully. "The main piece of my soul took refuge with you that night." Harry eyed him, not saying a word. "More so than the piece of my soul that lay in the diary, or any other piece that was scattered across this world. The part of my soul that stayed with you - unintentionally, I did not know what would happen that night - was nearly complete."

"But you're not him."

"No," Lord Voldemort said truthfully. "Tom was my past. But that does not mean he is not part of me."

Harry nodded, letting the silence fall again.

"Why me?" He rushed on before Lord Voldemort could say a word. "I mean, I - I'm nothing special. Whatever this prophecy said, I - Hermione is smart, she's brilliant. I would understand if it were her - Merlin, if it were any of them. So why me?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "Why did our magic - why did this happen?"

"Because, Harry, I chose to go to you that night." The boy looked up at that. "There was nothing that compelled me to make that choice, just as there was nothing that forced the Potters to do what they did."

"Or to leave me with the Dursleys."

"Yes," Lord Voldemort said, nodding. "It was choices that led us here."

The silence grew. He let Harry break it. "Why didn't you tell me any of this? All of it?"

"I could have," he told the boy freely. "I could have told you everything. Your mother would have. How they tortured and raped her. How they bound Sirius' magic. How they stole Bellatrix's daughter. How they have cheated, and killed, and murdered. They have done unspeakable things." He paused. "And so have I."

"I know what you've done," Harry said honestly. He swallowed. "Why not, then?"

"This is war, Harry. When you turned away from me the night of my resurrection, you were angry. I would not have forced you to come with me, no matter how much I wished to protect you. I wanted you to understand what you would chose to fight for - selfishly, I admit. For my own ends. Though I did not quite intend for this."

"Willingly," Harry voiced.

"Willingly," he confirmed. "Does that anger you?"

"No," Harry whispered. He looked away for a second, a shadow passing over his face. "I didn't care until they did it to me," he admitted at last. "I knew. I knew what they were capable of, I'd seen what they did, I didn't need the full story... I just told myself I did. I was so blind. Willfully blind. I let anger get the best of me. Some stupid dream of a family."

"It wasn't stupid, Harry," he told the boy, feeling oddly gentle. "And you will have one. Whatever you want. Ask for it, and it will be yours. You... you are not like my followers. You spoke the truth. I did raise you. You were like a son to me."

"And if I want this?" Harry asked him, raising his eyes to meet his. "If I ask you for this?"

"Are you prepared to fight, Harry? To be a part of this war?" He paused. "You can still leave. I won't have you martyr yourself because you cannot fight."

"Yes." Harry didn't look away, didn't pause, didn't flinch. "I want - I _will_ help you win this war."

"Then what do you ask for?"

Harry swallowed, struggling with his next words.

"The prophecy says I will kill you, though."

"No." He shook his head, seeing surprise - and hope? - dart across Harry's face. "The power to vanquish me. You do, of course, though not in the way those fools think. The bond - our connection works both ways, Harry," he said quietly.

"Oh," Harry said simply. "But..."

"Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

Harry nodded. "I don't understand."

"You do, Harry. It's the reason we are here now."

The boy closed his eyes for a moment, a change coming over him. "Survives," he said quietly. "Not lives. You survived, I lived... you lived, I survived."

"Indeed."

"But you saved me. So I _could_ live. And... it could have worked both ways. If we were enemies. If the Potters had chosen to raise me. It would have meant death... But now..."

"Now you have come to me, asking to die so you can live. Even when you have the chance to live freely. The last part of the prophecy."

Harry held his gaze, his hands steadying at last. "I've made my choice."


	32. And lose the name of Action

"And lose the name of Action"

"We can finish this tomorrow."

Harry's eyes shot up to Bellatrix. "Oh. No, no," he said firmly. "We should - no, we can finish it now."

The witch eyed him sharply.

"It's just dizziness. It's nothing." Harry knew better than to lie to her, she'd call him out immediately - she always did. "No, let's finish it today." He gripped the book open, the sunlight in the cold library falling generously across the pages. His hand shook a little, even as he did his best to still it. Behind him, the clock struck six, the sound jarring in the silence. His stomach clenched. _One more hour._ His head itched. His body itched. Everything did. His father had said it was natural, a sign of his magic coming back, but he wanted to tear off his skin, stab the pain until it went away.

"Mhmph." Bellatrix pushed her chair back suddenly, the wood scraping across the stone. "No, tomorrow. You're to go downstairs. They're waiting."

"But -" Harry glanced back reflexively, but the clock hadn't changed. "It's not for another hour."

"Yes, well, we lied," Bellatrix said dryly. "You get too nervous. Come on," she added, motioning to the door. "Sirius is here."

"Oh." Harry stood up slowly. His heart was racing so fast he nearly forgot to say goodbye. "Thanks, Bella," he said nervously.

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon," she reminded him. A wane smile crossed her face, and Harry knew she was thinking of her daughter.

He took a deep breath as he walked by Sirius, who was holding the door open for him. The two were silent as they made their way into the back passages of the castle, cautious as always to avoid the main hallways where the Dark Lord's followers lurked. No one save the Inner Circle knew what was to happen that night.

Darkness crept into the passages as they went further down into the castle. "This way," Sirius told him, breaking the quiet. They headed down another stairwell. The dust nearly made him sneeze as they rounded another corner.

"Why the... dungeons?" Harry asked, trying and failing to come up with another word. "Why not just his study?"

"Magical backlash," Sirius explained. "It can cause some disruption. The type of ritual you chose will most definitely result in some."

Harry swallowed.

"Do you think I should have gone with the other option?" he asked suddenly.

Sirius glanced at him, using the excuse to slow their pace. Harry noticed, but didn't say anything, grateful for the kindness. "It would have been easier," he pointed out. "But this ritual is the stronger one."

"... but he had doubts," Harry said, his voice growing quiet. "He wanted the other ritual." It didn't help that the Dark Lord hadn't used their connection at all since that night at the Potters. A sharp pang tore threw him suddenly.

Sirius took a moment to respond, mulling over his answer. "I wouldn't quite say doubts," he answered finally. "The other ritual is the easier one. It has no chance of destroying your magical core, regardless of personal feeling - that's why most use it."

He bit his lip. "But I _am_ sure about this. So it'll work, right? There's no chance of it failing?"

The older wizard stopped suddenly, turning to face him. "Harry, are you sure about this?"

"Yes." Harry answered without pause. He didn't need to think about it, he just knew. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Then trust in that," Sirius told him gravely. "Whatever happens, trust in that. The ritual you'll complete tonight - to become his heir, not just his son - it _will_ work. You're already his heir in every other way that matters. The magic will recognize that."

Harry nodded. "Okay," he said, his voice calmer.

"He only told you about what the potions had done to you because he wanted you to know the truth," Sirius reminded him, as they started to walk again. "Not to make you worry more."

"I know," Harry said resolutely. He glanced up at Sirius. "Did you... um, when you..." His voice trailed off as they came to the doorway. Sirius had only told him his story briefly. He hadn't said much about the ritual he'd gone through either.

"I was nervous," Sirius said quietly, as he traced his wand in the incantation to open the sealed door. "But I had no question I'd made the right decision. We're all nervous, it's part of being human. The trick is to find the difference between nerves and doubts."

The two fell silent as the door opened, light from the torches spilling into the hallway.

* * *

His magic exploded in pain.

 _He stepped forward. The Dark Lord stood by a tall stone basin at the end of the chamber. Harry didn't need their connection to feel his aura._

Something ripped through him, a fire that blinded him in its beauty, that dragged him from his body.

 _The knife cut through his palm easily, blood staining the marble. He watched it fall, transfixed._

But the fire didn't burn.

 _The Dark Lord's gaze held him, but - no, he was watching him. Harry had an odd sense of déjà vu, of a snake in a hedge..._

The ecstasy of pain tore him apart.

 _He was nothing in that moment. All he saw was darkness, pulling him into that comforting embrace._

His father's magic surrounding him.

* * *

"He's waking up."

His father's voice was steady. Had he been out long? His eyes wouldn't quite open yet, but he could feel something soft under his fingers...

Someone murmured, footsteps echoing across the stone floor. A door closed.

 _Harry._

He opened his eyes, blinking.

His father sat in silent watch across the bed in one of the armchairs.

Harry pulled himself up to sit, pushing the sheets off of him slowly.

 _How long was I - oh_. Sudden realization shot through him. _Our connection..._

 _Open fully once more._

And it was, his father's familiar presence at the edge of his mind. Harry smiled unconsciously, sensing his father's happiness through their bond.

 _Did I - did the -_

 _See for yourself._ His father gestured towards the mirror across the room.

Harry slipped out of the bed, his toes digging into the rug. Silently, he walked across the room.

"I look..." Harry studied himself in the mirror, his fingers gently tracing the side of his face. Was it his face? The boy in the mirror copied his movements, his eyes following him, but it wasn't... it wasn't...

He took a deep breath, panic rising in his chest. The green eyes stared back at him, drawing him in -

Behind him, fabric rustled as his father rose from the chair. Harry felt his hand squeeze his shoulder, and he looked up, startled.

"I'm sorry," he said hastily, guilt suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. "It's not - I mean -"

"Don't apologize, Harry," his father said calmly. "You knew your face your entire life, it'll take time to get used to. Here. Look."

Harry glanced back into the mirror warily. Two faces now stared back at him, unblinking.

"The ritual didn't just affect your magic." His father's voice was quiet.

"Oh." Harry began to study the two faces. His eyes were the same - the same as his mother's, something reminded him, and a sharp hurt shot through him - but his cheekbones were higher, his chin sharper. Fine dark hair fell straight. His skin was paler, more translucent. His fingers began to unconsciously trace his face once more.

There was no mistaking their connection now.

The two faces smiled back at him.

* * *

"Harry Potter is dead." Albus Dumbledore eyed the Potters carefully.

"Are you sure?" Somehow, Dorea didn't seem too concerned. "There is no way of knowing -"

"We saw Lord Voldemort take the poor boy during the battle," Albus interjected. "And now, it appears whatever they have used him for is done. His name has been stricken from the records of Hogwarts."

James rose from his chair, turning away from Dumbledore as he walked to the windows lining the Headmaster's study. "I should have protected him," James said finally, his voice heavy. "If I had only... Merlin, to think he was still alive a few hours ago..."

Albus didn't bother to correct the assumption. Truth be told, it'd only been a flippant comment from interrogating the Granger girl - the Lestrange girl - that made him think of checking the rolls. But the boy was dead. What did it matter when it had happened?

"What do we do now?" Dorea's voice was naive, but her eyes told a different story. "The Light needs a hero..."

Albus kept his voice appropriately grave for the situation. "We must turn to Charles, of course." Dorea couldn't hide the look of genuine shock that passed over her face. Glee flashed in her eyes, but he ignored it. "He is our only hope."

"But he isn't the Chosen One," James replied, turning slowly away from the window. "The prophecy -"

"I have heard the prophecy. I have no doubt that it applies to Charles. If it did not, he would be dead." _Most likely. Those that saw the fiasco are dead. The others will believe what I tell them._ "Harry was not the Chosen One; his death showed us that, as tragic as it was. Your son is ready. He must be ready. We will need him soon."

"Of course." James answered automatically, his voice proud. Albus stifled a snort at the barest of objections.

"Do we know where He Who Must Not Be Named will strike next, then?" Dorea asked keenly.

"London is the logical target. The Ministry has fallen, but Gringotts still stands. The Dark Side stands to gain much from taking Diagon Alley."

"I'll go there at once, then," James cut in, glancing at his aunt briefly. "And I'll take Charles with me -"

"Perhaps it would be wiser to leave him at Hogwarts," Albus suggested. "A safer location -"

James snorted. "Hardly safe. Is the Weasley girl still missing?"

Albus winced internally. "Unfortunately, Miss Weasley seems to have run off in an attempt to join the fight. Our forces are searching for her... and we will find her."

"Soon, I hope," Dorea said. Albus was surprised by how much the witch seemed to care - he'd never known her to give a damn beyond her own family. "With the militia that have sprung up... the country is not a safe place to be for a young girl -"

"Forget those groups," James pointed out. "The rumors we're hearing - the Dark Prince?" Dorea glanced up at him at those words, her face inscrutable.

Albus sighed, suddenly feeling quite older than his many years. "Rumors, hopefully," he admitted, too tired to lie. "We have never had any indication Lord Voldemort had a son... and there is no one in England that would fit the age. Every child has been accounted for. But no Death Eater has seen this son, if he truly exists. Not one of our spies has reported him."

* * *

"Is that everyone?" Hermione asked, her voice sharp as she looked between the group of students and the roll of parchment with a critical eye.

"Yes. And we've sealed the doorway behind us," Pansy added, anticipating the question.

"Great. Okay, let's start getting everyone settled in. Blaise -"

"We're setting up the beds now," he answered.

"Make sure you get the bed posts high enough. A bit of the water may come back in."

"Yes, ma'am." Blaise gave a half joking salute and started off at a jog.

Hermione surveyed the students spreading out among the Chamber. In one corner, Blaise was leading some of the younger students in setting up the beds they had transformed using old pillows and things they'd found in the common room. Some of the students had started to put away their belongings and tidy up their spaces, though Hermione saw that to her pleasure, they weren't segregating themselves by house.

"I still can't believe you pulled all of this off." Tracey walked up next to her. "Brilliant move, squaring away the food in the - what did you call it again?"

"Oh, it's an icebox," Hermione said, turnign to her friend. "I was going to do a refrigerator, but that needs electricity, and anyhow I don't _exactly_ remember how they work, but the icebox will do just as well. We should have enough food for a few weeks."

Tracey snorted. "You're way more organized than I'd be. I would have just given in and had someone sneak off to the kitchens every few days."

"I considered that actually," Hermione admitted. "I was also - did you know there's a hidden room up on the seventh floor? Well, anyways, the house elves know about that one, and I can't trust that they wouldn't go blab to Dumbledore if we tried to sneak into the kitchens. But it only took a little longer to set all of this up, so really no harm."

"Just in time, too," Tracey said grimly. "They've been shutting down more of the castle. They're worried. If it came to a battle..."

"Mhm." Hermione swallowed as she eyed the students. At least Professor Snape had warned her before he disappeared, not that she could tell Tracey that they'd run out of time. "Do you think blindfolding them was enough?"

"I mean, you made them meet us far outside the common rooms," Tracey pointed out. "You also took away their senses before they came in. If anyone else really knows how to get in or out of this place, we've got bigger issues. How did you know about it, anyways?"

"One of Harry and Fia's little mishaps they forgot to tell us about," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, it kind of made sense, that Slytherin's chamber would go into the Slytherin common room... but still, geez."

Silence fell for a moment. "Do you think they're okay?" Tracey asked finally, her voice quieter.

"I have to believe that," Hermione said. "But we have to take care of ourselves now. We have to survive."

* * *

"Why are we here?" Regulus growled, pacing next to Sirius in their corner of the hall. "I was in the middle of training the new recruits."

"Would you stop?" Sirius asked his brother, observing the witches and wizards milling about the room. Most were huddled in small groups across the wide hall. His gaze unconsciously flew to the doorway as Bellatrix and her husband entered. For a moment, her eyes met his, but then she looked away.

"Still not talking to you?" Regulus followed his gaze. "I thought the news was good."

"She still can't see her daughter, though," Sirius pointed out. "And won't, not until we take Hogwarts."

"We will," Regulus promised quietly. "Our forces are growing - ever since the rumors started spreading -"

A hush stretched across the crowd as the Dark Lord entered the hall.

"My loyal followers." The crowd parted gently, pushing back to clear a path through the center. Slowly, the Dark Lord made his way down the hall onto the dais, the crowd surging forward as he passed to offer their respects.

"Is that who I think it is?" Regulus whispered with sudden interest, craning his neck as he tried to see over the crowd.

But Sirius didn't reply. He didn't need to - the Dark Lord was already making his way onto the dais, followed by an unmasked young man.

He watched Harry take his place next to his father with pride.

The Dark Lord let the whispers grow louder. "My loyal followers." His cold voice silenced them all.

"I give you my son and heir."

* * *

As it had been every morning that year since the first of September, the Great Hall was silent.

"Albus?"

"Mhm?" Albus took another bite of his breakfast. An odd buzz was beginning to grow in the hall, an irritating little sound, but he ignored it.

" _Albus_."

"Yes, Minerva?" Albus looked up from his crossword. A quaint muggle paper, but one he enjoyed. The witch frowned.

"Albus, the students."

Albus blinked. "What about the students?"

"Albus, nearly half of them are missing."

"Wh -" Albus glanced back to the Great Hall. "Merlin! The students are missing." Gryffindor was full - or nearly full - but Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin all had large gaps where the students were supposed to be sitting.

"Yes, that's what I was trying to tell you," Minerva said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "Dolly's just informed me that they're not in their dormitories. And I've tried to reach Severus, but -"

A slight pop interrupted. "Head - headmaster?"

"Yes?" The house elf wouldn't answer, so he finally turned to look at it. "What? What is it?"

"Um - Professor - Professor Snape -"

A headache began to build in his head. "... Yes?"

"...Professor Snape is not in his chambers, sir."

"Then go to his classroom," Albus growled, irritation growing. "Or the greenhouses. Or the Forbidden Forrest. Or -"

"... Professor Snape is not in Hogwarts, sir."

Something seemed to slip in the world around him.

"That's impossible," Albus said firmly. "The wards have not been breached. Hogwarts has not fallen. Find me Severus, _now_."

* * *

In a beautiful old manor house somewhere in the west of Essex, Severus Snape sat back with a frown.

Harry eyed him from across the table. "How bad is it, sir?" he asked finally.

Severus looked to the Dark Lord, who was leaning against the window sill while watching the two of them. His cold eyes betrayed nothing, but he gestured for Severus to continue.

"Your magical core has stabilized," Severus told his former student, breaking the silence. Harry waited for him to continue, his face mirroring the Dark Lord's impenetrable expression. Severus swallowed. He was not a man to give in to fear, but... "The potions alone would have been bad, but Dorea Potter is an inept brewer in the best of circumstances. You will heal, but it will take time. Patience. The memory loss was an unfortunate side effect. Those will be impossible to recover. In the meantime, I'll prepare a potion regimen that will support both your muscles and your magic as they heal. You are not - my lord." He turned to the Dark Lord directly. "He is not to overdo it. He must use his body and his magic, but he is to stop as soon as he gets tired. Otherwise he'll only harm himself further."

Harry's voice drew his attention back. "Are there any particular exercises I should be doing that would help?"

"I'll draw up a schedule for you," Severus promised. "I'll bring it when I bring your potions this afternoon."

"The rooms you requested have been prepared downstairs, Severus," the Dark Lord cut in. "Ask the house elves if you'll need any other ingredients."

"Yes, my lord -"

"What of the students at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, before Severus could make his way out.

The impromptu interruption threw Severus off for a moment. No one normally spoke after the Dark Lord... but if He minded, he didn't show it. "Well, actually." He paused. "Dumbledore underestimated how dangerous Miss Lestrange is." Obvious pride ran through his voice. "She's smuggled half of the students remaining at the castle into the Chamber of Secrets. If I'm not mistaken, Dumbledore will only be finding out that little fact this morning."

Harry nodded, biting his lip. "Good."

"They'll be safe. For now." The Dark Lord nodded. "My lord." Severus bowed and made his way out of the room, ruminating over the new knowledge he'd gathered of Lily's son.

* * *

The door swung shut behind his old professor with an echo. Harry steadied his hand on the table, the noise still bothering him.

"Could the students escape the same way Ginny and Severus did?" Harry asked finally.

His father let the silence fall. "No," he told him. "Theoretically, yes. The passage Ginevra used is in the Chamber, and Dumbledore hasn't discovered it yet to our knowledge. But it exits into an unplottable part of the Forbidden Forest, and many of those students won't be worth anything in a fight."

"And Ginny left a month ago," Harry said quietly.

"Yes," his father agreed. "It was over a month ago. The countryside has gotten significantly more dangerous since then. To risk moving that large of a group, most of whom will not be able to protect themselves - the risk is too high."

"I know." Harry bit his lip. "Still. It's..."

"We'll be ready to attack the castle soon. Our forces are growing stronger by the day." The Dark Lord walked from the window to the table, setting himself across from Harry. "What are your thoughts on yesterday's meeting?"

Calm settled over Harry at the familiarity of their old routine. "We'll be in a better position if we can draw any forces protecting the castle away... but the parents are a weakness."

His father nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"If they're... we lost touch with most of the parents whose children were kidnapped?" His father nodded again in confirmation. "If they think they're still under Dumbledore's power, they're not going - they'll protect the castle. But if there was a way to tell them... we don't know what Dumbledore's told them."

"According to Severus, not much."

"He never does," Harry said, channeling his old anger into something useful. "He's never done so in the past. If anything, he'll deliberately keep them in the dark... He wants control. He won't make allies with them." He frowned. "But what about the rogue - no, he won't have made allies of them either. He relies too much on Potter. And his own power."

The Dark Lord leaned back, watching him with a small smile.

"Do we know where Potter is?" Harry asked.

"One of our sources says he's in London -"

"They'll be using him to recruit others," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. "Father - I... let me go out -"

"No. You're still injured." The Dark Lord frowned. "Absolutely not."

"I don't need to fight," Harry said, trying to convince his father. "Just let me be seen. The rumors are already spreading -"

"The rumors are _enough_ ," his father said emphatically. "It was a good idea on your part, I won't deny that," he added. "They're working. And now that my Death Eaters have sworn loyalty to you - now that they have seen you with their own eyes - the rumors will spread even more quickly. The Order's spies will no doubt be writing to Dumbledore soon enough."

"If I were anyone else, you would use me," said Harry, his voice quiet. "And -"

"But you're not anyone else," his father told him. "You are too valuable to -"

"I'll go with Sirius and Bellatrix," Harry cut in. "Just - wait. Hear me out," he asked. His father closed his mouth, glaring at him. "Draco's dad. Anyone else you want. The entire Inner Circle. I'll stay in the back, just enough to be seen. I'll even leave my wand with you so I can't -"

"I'm the one who taught you wandless magic," his father pointed out dryly.

"I can be useful," Harry said quietly. "You know that. They fear the fact that you have a son."

His father drummed his fingers on the top of the table, staring at him. The silence was still discerning, even though he could feel the bond in his head. It was a comfortable thrum now, a reminder he wasn't alone.

 _Please, father. I want to do this._

The Dark Lord frowned. "I have one condition," he said finally.


	33. Soft you now

"Soft you now"

"Hurry _up_ ," one of the men hissed. "Just grab what we need -"

"Look at all these ingredients, though! We can't get these from the muggles. Ainsworth could make some potions out of them."

The witch eyed the old library. Whatever family had lived here had fled some time ago. One of the bookcases had been blasted to pieces, fire marks torched into the side. She ran her hand over the mantle and inspected the heavy dust that covered her finger with a smile.

Just like the other houses. They'd be here soon.

* * *

Harry eyed the figures darting about in the darkness below from their vantage point on the second floor landing. There were five of them, one of those rogue groups that'd sprung up in the chaos following the fall of the Ministry, witches and wizards on the run from the madness and destruction of the wizarding communities. Three witches, two wizards. And judging from their comments, at least one more waiting for them back at their camp.

"Just grab them and shut up. We need to get out of here before any Death Eaters show up."

Harry nodded when Sirius looked at him. With a flick of his wrist, Sirius pulled the doors shut with a loud slam.

* * *

The witch had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as the prisoners on either side of her squirmed. The Death Eaters had disarmed them easily, binding them with heavy ropes and dragging them out into the dark moors.

But then they'd just left them there, kneeling in the hardened dirt... She peered out, past the masked Death Eaters who guarded them. There were three figures there in the distance.

And if their intelligence was correct, one of them would be the Dark Lord's son.

The Dark Prince.

Something twisted uncomfortably in her gut. She'd received the briefing, of course, when she'd agreed to go on the mission. The rumors, the sightings - an unmasked young man, leading Death Eaters as they rounded up whichever witch or wizard they could find.

Only a few had escaped. The rest had disappeared.

Suddenly, the figures turned, moving towards the prisoners. The young witch looked down at the ground - _act like a prisoner, Alicia_ \- taking note of footsteps that drew closer and closer. Her heart raced.

The footsteps stopped in front of her.

 _Dragonskin boots,_ Alicia noted. Three of them -

No. Only the one in the center - and those weren't part of their uniform - which meant -

"What are their names?"

She glanced up unconsciously, something pounding loudly in her head.

He was young. That was her first thought, she remembered blankly. He was young, maybe a year or two younger than her. But his face... handsome, in a cold way, as if carved from marble. It was a face that no one would forget... She'd seen photos, of course, they all had; she'd even see He Who Must Not Be Named across a field. Cold ran through her. This was his son, it had to be. There was no mistaking him.

Someone was speaking, talking to him, but she couldn't hear. He stepped forward, walking past them one by one. Finally, he came to Alicia. She swallowed. Would he...?

But he dismissed her with a glance, turning back to the Death Eaters, issuing orders in a low voice. The knife dug into her side. He was still within reach, and she'd loosened the bonds...

* * *

"The one in the center," Harry told Bella. "Two years older then me at Hogwarts - a Gryffindor, of course."

"You're sure?"

"The Order placed a block on her mind, I didn't need to read it."

Bella snorted, watching the prisoners past him. "No one's subtle anymore -"

Harry heard the prisoner move behind them, his training kicking into him automatically. _One foot on the ground - they were standing up -_

He twisted, raising his arm and summoning the magic to his fingers.

* * *

Alicia felt her heart stop as she saw the Dark Lord's son turn at the sound. There was no time to move, no time to react - it was as if he danced through the air...

He didn't even use a wand. The red blast raced through the darkness, hitting the wizard squarely in the chest. Alicia flinched as the man was landed in the dirt just past her, no sound coming from the body.

He'd moved before she had. Wordlessly, He Who Must Not Be Named's son walked back to the row of prisoners, inspecting the wizard. She squeezed her eyes shut. _No, no, no, no_ -

"Take him." His voice was cold and curt. "Leave him in the dungeons, I'll interrogate him later myself. We've found the Order's spy."

"Yes, my lord."

Footsteps pounded the ground. Alicia took a shallow breath, and slowly opened her eyes. _The Order's spy? No, the wizard wasn't... don't say anything idiot, don't give yourself away._

"My lord?"

She glanced up, looking at His son out of the corner of her eye. He was standing in front of them now, but he wasn't looking at her. Her heart was racing so fast she nearly missed his next words.

"You are to be released," he said coldly. "Return to your homes, to your families. Do not look to steal from us again." His footsteps were soft in the silence of the night as he came closer to Alicia. But he still didn't look. No, he was looking at the witch next to her... unconsciously, Alicia felt her gaze drawn to the two of them. The witch was staring up at him, fear lining her every movement. Alicia had a vague memory of the woman saying something about her family, how she had to go back...

"If you seek safety," he continued, his voice low, "come to us. We will protect you."

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Dorea Potter studied the figures in the room coldly. It was at moments like this that she missed Charlus, or as much as one could ever miss him, at any rate. He would have understood what needed to be done.

"Let us begin," Dumbledore said gravely. As always, he sat at his desk, as if an emperor surveying his troops. "Frank?"

Longbottom stepped into the room, his face drawn and haggard. "London is no longer safe. He Who Must Not Be Named's forces will overwhelm it any day now. What remains of the Aurors... our witches and wizards are fleeing by the dozens," he admitted.

"You can't let them," Molly Weasley demanded angrily. "They're cowards -"

"There's too many of them," Moody informed her from his armchair. His false eye spun this way and that as he tightened his grip on his cane. "Frank's right. We can't keep London."

Frank sighed wearily. "Not with the rumors of the Dark Prince, at any rate -"

"The Dark Prince?" Minerva's voice was sharp.

"It's what they've begun to call him," Frank told her grimly. " _His_ son. There have been sightings of him across England. It hasn't helped our cause."

Dumbledore raised his hand, gesturing for silence. "One of our spies has brought us news of Lord Voldemort's son," he informed them, ignoring the growing murmurs. "He is a boy - a child -"

"But who is he?" a wizard demanded from the back of the Headmaster's office. "The prophecy never said anything about a son -"

"We believe he was raised abroad." Dumbledore peered at them over his half moon glasses. "He was not a student at Hogwarts."

"He doesn't lead raids," Moody pointed out. "But neither does He Who Must Not Be Named, and he's been seen in command of the Inner Circle -"

"But we have the Chosen One," Frank reminded them. Dorea smiled to herself.

"Yes, the Chosen One," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I believe it best if young Mr. Potter returns here. I will train him personally."

Dorea stiffened at Dumbledore's word even as Charles perked up in his seat in front of her.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Moody asked gruffly. "It would be good for morale to see the Chosen One - especially with the rumors -"

"Charles must be prepared to face his destiny." Annoyance began to seep into Dumbledore's words. Dorea was about to speak, but the headmaster dismissed the meeting before she could challenge him.

Slowly, the Order began to disperse, some still milling about in the office in small groups. Anxious whispers flooded the room.

* * *

"How do you think this will end?" Hermione asked softly.

Tracey was perched on on one of the ledges overlooking the Chamber. Just past them stood one of the many rooms hidden within the Chamber's vast passages. Hermione had opened one once; it'd been filled with books and armor. They'd taken their fill of it and more. But the second hallway she'd wandered down had been filled with bones, some clearly fresh... and with that discovery, she'd banned them from exploring the Chamber more.

Absent a murder, though, the basilisk wasn't quite as awful as Dumbledore, so there was that.

"Mhm?" Tracey started. Hermione followed her gaze. In the main hall, Pansy had the third and fourth years drilling, while Blaise took charge of the younger years. Years of house tutoring had paid off. They'd be just as ready for school as they ever were - if there was a school to come back to, of course.

"It's been months now."

"They'll come for us." Tracey's voice didn't waver. "They have to."

"What if they've..."

"They haven't. And you can't think like that." Tracey took a breath. "At this rate, anyways, you'll be able to raise a rebellion yourself."

"I wish I had agreed to see them."

Tracey didn't respond for a moment. "I did meet her, you know," she said at last. She glanced up at the bushy-haired witch. "My - my birth mother, I mean."

"Wha - _when?_ "

Tracey frowned, glancing back down at the ground. "When they captured me." She'd never said more, and Hermione didn't press her. "They took me to her. She's one of the reasons they let me come back to Hogwarts. The others they found... I haven't seen them since." Her voice was blank. "She's a muggleborn. She married a muggle. I was her third child, the only one with magic... they were nice. Normal, I think. Though I don't really know how the muggle world works." She took a breath. "I'd like to see her again, once this is all over."

"It will be." Hermione found their places reversed suddenly, the need to comfort her friend coursing through her. "We're going to get out of here. If they don't come for us, we'll go to Plan B."

"As much as I dislike the idea of taking the kids into the forest, we'll have to," Tracey said grimly. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she stood up. Renewed determination surged through her. "You've got us training day and night. If we have to make a run for it, we'll stand a good chance."

Hermione nodded, watching her friend. "Harry's going to be okay," she said suddenly. For a moment she thought of the boy she'd left behind, the gentle wizard who'd written her every day since they kissed. A pang passed through her. Would he be there, after all of this?

A wane smile passed over Tracey's face. "Of course." She looked back over the students in the Chamber. "Let's go," she said with determination. "I'll take a group into the Forest to scout. You're right. We need to be prepared to flee."

* * *

"Father."

"My son." Lord Voldemort glanced up from his papers, sitting back in his chair. "You did well tonight."

Pleasure surged through Harry's at his father's words. He let himself relax for the first time that day, the Dark Lord's aura a soothing calm. "I only did what you taught me."

"You're a better student now," his father informed him, his pride evident. "Do you understand now the true power of your magic?"

The high had been maddening. He'd used wandless magic before, of course, but the way it came so easily to his fingertips when he called without thought...

Harry took a breath to steady himself. His father's amusement and pride echoed through their bond.

"Does it always feel like that?" he asked at last.

"Yes," the Dark Lord told him. "But you will find it less distracting over time. Now."

"I've already interrogated the prisoner," he informed his father, the question clear before the words were spoken. "You were preoccupied with Snape. I thought it best to proceed, before another... unfortunate accident came upon this one." The memory of the former prisoner's suicide made him frown. "The Order's real spy was given the chance to escape, as we discussed."

"Good. And what of this prisoner?"

"Greyback's forces are in disarray," he told his father. "More flee to us every day. They've lost morale. He will not be a threat should we proceed."

"They see you by my side and know their cause is lost," his father said with satisfaction. "It matters not what Chosen One Dumbledore puts forth now." Lord Voldemort saw the shadow pass over his face. "You may do to him what you like, when we win," his father reminded him. "You have my promise."

"I know." Harry bowed his head. _Thank you._

His father rose, his robes sweeping behind him as he made his way to Harry. He placed one hand on his son's shoulder. "And when this war is over, we will bring your mother's body home," he told Harry quietly, his eyes never blinking.

Harry nodded.

"Now come." Lord Voldemort released him, and Harry followed him out of the study.

"My Lord. My Prince." The Dark Lord's followers offered short bows as the father and son passed. Murmurs followed behind them, but Harry disregarded them. Suddenly, he thought of Tracey and Hermione. Were they still holding on? They had to be. Tracey wouldn't give up. She - both of them had always been so strong.

 _When we win, what a world we will build_ , his father promised him, hearing his son's thoughts. _And we will right the wrongs that have been done_. Harry followed him through the hallways, finding himself at last on the turrets he'd long since forgotten. Below them spread a camp as far as the eye could see, the lights of fires flickering in the night.

They were ready.


	34. The fair Ophelia

"The fair Ophelia"

The day began with a cold mist that spread across the hills.

The two studied the castle from their vantage point.

 _Follow the path with Ginny. It'll lead you right to the Chamber. You're to protect the students until the battle's over._

Harry shot his father a look, but tempered the slight anger he felt.

 _You're capable, more than capable in a fight, but you have an important task. Keep them safe._

Harry bit his lip. _I know_ , he thought to his father finally. _I understand._ A slight shot of envy bubbled in him at the help Fia and Draco would provide with the healers, but he pushed it back down.

 _You have been helpful_ , his father pointed out, not missing anything. _You're the reason we're strong today. Half the new recruits are here because we helped their families, the other half because they heard rumors of my son and they now believe us unstoppable. The information you took from our captives has given us the upper hand._

The guilt of not doing more and satisfaction rose in him in equal measure.

 _Go,_ his father said firmly. _Gather the students, keep them out of harm's way. The real work will begin after the battle_.

* * *

Hermione eyed the Slytherin warily as they began to circle each other. Zabini was favoring his left leg; had the right really been hurt? The dragonskin armor weighed her down, but she was getting better at moving in it. Hit him again there, and -

"Hermione! _Hermione_!"

She snapped back into reality. " _What?_ " she said, with not a little annoyance. The only saving grace was that Blaise looked relieved at the interruption.

"Sorry," Pansy said, panting a little. "The - um - you need to come right away - two people just showed up, and -"

Hermione turned, looking back into the main court of the chamber. Now that she was paying attention, she could hear a growing din of voices. _Who? No -_ As realization set over her, she jumped into action. _No, they can't have found us._ Panic lingered at the edge of her mind, but she pushed it away. She was dimly aware of Blaise and Pansy following behind her. A crowd had formed, murmuring angrily.

She tried to look over the crowd, but could only see a few of the Slytherins in the front. A few of the students made way once they saw her, but the mood was too tense.

"Who are you?" Daphne demanded, holding her wand with a steel grip.

"A Weasley? She can't be -"

Red hair. A girl's voice.

 _Ginny. Ginny. Oh Merlin, she came back_.

"She's with us," Hermione said firmly, pushing through the crowd. Daphne glanced at her to check, finally lowering her wand cautiously.

Ginny was standing next to a young man, the two studying the crowd with some interest. "Hey, Hermione." Ginny grinned. "Surprise!"

Hermione snorted. "Okay, everyone, back to what you were doing." A few people grumbled, but the crowd began to disperse. She shrugged at Daphne's questioning glance. "I'll talk to you guys when we figure it out."

"Oh, good," she heard Pansy say behind her. "Come on, Blaise, let's get back to -"

Hermione turned to lead Ginny and the boy away to somewhere more private when Blaise suddenly pushed past her.

"Hello." Hermione turned back, only to see Blaise offering his hand to Ginny. "Blaise. Blaise Zabini," Blaise said, shaking her hand firmly. "Let me know if you need anything -"

"We will," Hermione said pointedly. Blaise winked at Ginny before swaggering off. "Merlin." She rolled her eyes. "Sorry about that," she added, bringing the two of them into one of the alcoves. "You hadn't met Blaise yet, had you? Ignore him."

Ginny laughed as she sat down. "Don't worry about it."

Hermione grinned back, before turning to the boy who'd sat down across from her. "Sorry," she said apologetically, extending her hand. "I'm Hermione - I didn't get your name -"

The boy raised an eyebrow, sharing an amused glance with Ginny. He looked to be around her age, though she couldn't quite place it. The emotionless face gave nothing away, though something about the eyes seemed -

"Harry."

Hermione swallowed.

"No," she said slowly. "You're not - it's not..."

The boy leaned forward, looking her straight in the eye. "It's me, Hermione," he said quietly. "I would have - well, I didn't want to startle you."

Hermione looked between the two of them. "But - you..."

"A bit of a long story."

She bit her lip. "Are you - Ginny - she said... are you okay?"

A shadow passed across his face briefly. "Yes." The word spoke more than any explanation did. "But that doesn't quite explain what you're really wondering about."

"If you don't want to tell me -"

Harry glanced at Ginny again, before he looked back at her. "Yes," he said firmly. "I do. You deserve the truth, anyhow." He laughed suddenly. "Merlin. I don't know quite what to - Ginny? Thoughts?"

"Just go with the basics?"

"True," he said, mulling it over. "Huh. Well, the Dark Lord's adopted me as his son."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then frowned.

"You..."

"Yes."

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "So - oh. You..."

He gestured towards his face. "Yes. It was a bit jarring, waking up like this, but - I got used to it."

"Yeah." She studied him again. "Actually, you don't look - you're still... I don't know. Harry," she said, a bit surprised. "Well, actually, it makes sense. You still have your mother's genes."

Harry chuckled. "Father said the same," he confessed.

"Does - is... who knows?"

"I'd like to tell Tracey," Harry said after a moment. "Father is fine with that. Draco and Fia know, of course. But beyond that..." He shrugged. "It would be better if - Harry Steward, Harry Potter - they've died, really. I'm no longer them. It would be better if the world understood it that way." He looked at her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Hermione said quietly, leaving the rest unspoken. "You don't need to worry about me."

Harry smiled. "Good," he said.

Hermione pondered over the implications in her mind. "So - what do - what are you known by?"

"The Dark Prince." Harry grinned in amusement at her reaction. "I know, I know. It's - someone started calling me that, when we first began to spread the rumors, and it stuck. We've been so busy that we didn't really have a moment to worry about a name -"

"We did," Ginny said wickedly.

"No name that worked," Harry said firmly. "Anyways, you can introduce me as that, or as the Dark Lord's son."

"Huh." Hermione took a breath, before reality set in once more. "So I imagine you're not just here for a friendly visit?"

"Well, I'd say we've come to rescue you, but it doesn't look like you need much rescuing," Harry said ruefully. "Severus said you'd snuck half the school in here, but Merlin, Hermione - wow. Anyways -"

Suddenly, a large boom echoed through the chamber, vibrating through the stone.

"Ah." He looked up, watching a few loose pebbles rattle from the ceiling. "It's begun." Harry's face went blank for a moment. "They've raised the shield," he said, though to whom it was not clear.

Hermione looked to Ginny, but the girl didn't seem too surprised.

"Right. We need to get the students down here to a more secure part of the Chamber if it's going to keep -"

"The Chamber will hold," Harry assured her. "But you're right. Get them to the back, closer to the entrance to the Forest."

"Should we evacuate? I don't think the Forest will be safe, though."

"No," Harry said firmly. "You're right, it won't be safe. They'll be able to get you out of here when the battle's over..." Suddenly, something changed in his face.

Ginny glanced up this time. "Harry? Harry -"

It was like he was hearing a voice no one else could. He got up slowly, as if moving through an ocean, but then his eyes seemed to focus on something far away. "They know we're here." His voice was emotionless.

"Who?" Ginny demanded, her face going white. "Hermione -"

"We need to get the students out by the back," Hermione said firmly. "Harry -"

"Potter and your brother." He came back down to earth. "Ginny, you have to go with them - you know that area. Hermione -"

"I'm coming with you," she informed him, cutting him off. "Ginny, Tracey and the rest of the sixth years will be with you. If you run into -"

"If we run into anything, we'll have bigger problems to worry about," Ginny said grimly. "Go. I'll find Tracey. You can't let any of them down here."

"You've got some time," Harry told her. "They don't know how to open the Chamber. Make sure not to leave yourself exposed."

* * *

 _Open_ , Harry hissed. As soon as they climbed through, the door slowly turned back into place, the stone snakes locking.

"Can you tell where they are?" Hermione asked as they clambered over the rocks.

Harry eyed the path before them carefully. There hadn't been this much rubble beforehand, but he'd also missed the fight with Lockheart. "Here," he said absentmindedly, offering his hand to the witch behind him after he climbed over a particularly tall stone.

"Thanks." She wiped the dust off on her robe.

"They're still up at the bathroom - second floor. It's the main entrance into the chamber. The old girls' bathroom."

"That thing?" She frowned. "Slytherin put the entrance to his chamber in a girls' bathroom?"

"Father said it used to be part of his old classrooms, or something along those lines. The bathroom only was built more recently." The pebbles crunched under their feet.

"Makes sense. So is it - some sort of alarm system? That lets you know...?"

"I think it has to do with the fact that I'm now one of the Heirs," Harry said. They drew closer to the main doorway. "It just sort of... it's hard to explain. It's not the same as opening the doors, but, uh - it's like this scratch in my head, like the Chamber itself is trying to warn me. Does that make sense?"

"Sure," Hermione said, shrugging. "I mean, it's magic. Does any of this make sense?" Her voice trailed off as they came to the oval room.

The two looked up.

"There'll be a stairway that opens up," he told her. A calm settled over him as he began to run through his exercises in his head. On the fringes of his mind, he could feel the bond with his father. Most of the battle was still on the outside of the castle. "The entrance opens up into the middle of the room, so we won't have any cover. My guess is however - oh." He let loose a curse.

"You know how they found us?"

"Potter's father created a map of Hogwarts once," Harry said quietly. "It didn't include the Chamber, or the Slytherin dorms -"

"Because the magic had to rely on what Potter's dad was able to know of the castle," Hermione cut in. "Potter's been down into the Chamber, hasn't he?"

"Exactly," he said grimly. "So if they're relying on a recreation of that map -"

"They'll know we're down here."

A loud boom rattled through the ceiling.

 _ **What**_ _are you doing?_ His father's voice echoed through his head suddenly, anger clear.

 _Change of plans_ , Harry told him. _Potter and his goon know we're here -_

 _The Chamber will hold,_ his father said. _Get back into the main chamber,_ _ **now**_ _._

 _It won't. They're blasting through the bathroom entrance. Eventually, they'll make it through, and then they'll make it through the second doorway._ His father didn't respond. _If we cut them off now, there's only two of them._

 _Don't get drawn into the fight_ , his father said finally, his voice more distant. _Dumbledore's forces are concentrated inside the castle. If you leave that area -_

 _I won't_ , Harry promised. His father's voice went silent again, but Harry could feel the chaos of the battle outside through their connection.

"Shoot to kill, then," Hermione said dryly. "Is that the plan?"

"Don't get drawn out into the fight," Harry told her.

"I'm going to be too busy laughing at the looks on their faces when they see you," she informed him, slipping out of her robe.

Harry looked her over with some confusion. "Are you wearing -"

"Dragonskin armor?" Hermione shrugged. "We found some in the Chamber, figured it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. Hope you don't mind that we borrowed it -"

"You look like your mum," Harry said in surprise.

"Good of you to finally notice. You're not the only one who found some old rituals," she informed him, grinning. "Might be a bit of a nasty shock for them."

* * *

It was like some sort of strange dance.

The stones opened overhead, the light bursting through. With a reflexive twist of his hand, Harry threw the room overhead into the darkness. A scream echoed. Their feet hit the tiles of the bathroom. Next to him, Hermione surged forward, ducking to escape the mad blast that came their way. Harry threw up a shield. A second later it was hit by a bolt of yellow, then a second. Harry shifted to the side, grinning as the blood began to pump through him.

Another stray bolt brushed past him, hitting the wall to the left of him and sending rock flying.

"Get down!" he roared to Hermione. " _Expulso!_ "

Across the room, Weasley screamed. Light burst through Harry's vision, the spell bouncing off of his shield. Hermione sent a curse right back, the red slashing through the darkness. Spinning, he threw a bolt of purple through the air, aiming for where the noise had come from.

" _Get back!_ " Weasley yelled. "Come on!"

He surged forward, anger coursing through him, but suddenly pain burst into his mind -

 _Dumbledore stood on the top of the bridge, a ring of water swirling around him. With a lunge, the water slammed into his forces, screams echoing in the air -_

With a growl, he sent a flash of green across the room, but it was too late.

Hermione lit her wand, getting back up slowly as she surveyed the damage. "Do you want to follow?"

"No, not yet," Harry said with a frown. "We've stopped them from breaking in at least." They could hear the battle faintly from where they were standing. Striding forward, he plucked the parchment they'd left carelessly on the floor behind them, Hermione following.

"Interesting." He pointed to bathroom, his eyes vaguely following the retreating figures of Potter and Weasley down into the Great Hall, while Ginny Weasley ushered students down and out of the Chamber. No one else was near the floor according to the map.

"Hermione Lestrange," she said, with a small hint of happiness. "And - huh."

"Legally, I don't think I have a name," Harry mused. "I never really got the details on how this map works though."

"There's no way it hooks into some sort of registry," Hermione said thoughtfully. "A magical signature? A truth spell, it'd need a variation of that - otherwise you could just take a Polyjuice..." She shook her head. "That's a scary piece of magic there."

Harry nodded, handing over the map as he stood back to survey the damage on the Chamber's entrance.

"It won't hold with a few more blasts." Her voice was grim. "They know who's down there now, though they probably think Ginny's being held prisoner. If Potter comes back with reinforcements..."

"Come on." He led her out of the bathroom.

"Are we going back down?"

"No," Harry said curtly, stepping back to the edge of the hallway.

" _Expulso!_ "

With a smash, the ceiling began to cave in on the room.

* * *

Another blast echoed through the Chamber.

"Let's move," Ginny told Tracey.

The older witch nodded, watching the entrance out to the castle. She turned back. "That's all of them?"

Blaise nodded.

"Come on then. Blaise, Pansy, Daphne, stay at the rear. If you hear anything -"

"Don't worry about us," Daphne said quietly. "What are we - sorry," she amended, turning to Ginny at a look from Tracey. "Ginny, what should we expect when we go out into the Forest?"

Ginny swallowed, a vague memory of dark nights and the hiss of spiders rushing back to her. "It's an unplottable part of the Forest. But it's not night yet, so we have some safety in that."

"We don't have enough people to apparate everyone out," Blaise noted, looking over the younger students huddling at the entrance to the passageway.

"No, we don't." Ginny followed his gaze. "It's going to depend where the battle is at that point. The Dark Lord brought almost all of his forces. It was never going to be a quick raid. But -"

"If the battle turns, we'll figure it out from there," Tracey cut in.

Ginny nodded. "Once we get out of the passage, the important thing to do will be to find cover. There's a few hollows scattered back that way, and they've set up a medicamp in there. Ideally we can find it. If not, we find a place to wait out the battle."

"Let's go then." Tracey started off, Ginny by her side. Two other Slytherins Ginny didn't know walked with them, but they looked like they might have been her year by their nervous gait. Tracey drew closer to her as the mass began to shuffle behind them. "Does the Dark Lord expect to win the battle?"

Ginny glanced at her, making sure to keep her voice low. "It'll be close," she said quietly. "Dumbledore's been concentrating most of his forces at Hogwarts. We tried to lure them off, but - well, Potter was supposed to be in London, not here."

Tracey's voice took on a grim determination. "If it comes down to it, we can get the younger ones out." She glanced back. At the end of the train, Blaise signed ok with his fingers. "We've been training down here. Hermione had us doing every drill under the sun. If it comes to it..."

"Let's try to make sure it doesn't."


	35. Nymph

"Nymph"

 _Don't get yourself killed_ , his father told him, too focused on the battle to get angry at him.

 _I won't_ , Harry promised, following Hermione down the empty hallway. _Please -_ he thought suddenly.

 _I know_. His voice cut out again as the battle picked up. As they passed on the windows, the two paused to observe the dots outside. The fire and fury of the battle could just be seen from their vantage point, but it was too small to make out anything other than the rage of the battle.

"Who's winning?" Hermione asked quietly.

"It's close." Brief flashes of the battlefield shot across the bond. He tuned them out, concentrating on the matter at hand. "But Dumbledore's holding back, close to the castle. He has the advantage. Hogwarts' defenses are strong."

"The shield?"

Harry nodded. "Among others."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "If you're one of the Heirs of the Founders, would you be able to disable some of them?"

"That's what I was hoping," Harry admitted. "But I don't quite know where to start."

"Well, here." Hermione pulled out the map. The castle rattled sharply one more with another boom. Suddenly, she gasped.

"What?"

"Look." She pointed at one of the corners of the map, where the courtyard opened up onto the hills below. "Dumbledore's holding back some of his forces in the courtyard. Why are all of these -"

"I don't recognize all of them, but some of those are students." Harry frowned. "Merlin. He's - they're going to have to go through them -"

"They'll have to blast through. By the time they get to the courtyard..." Hermione sounded sick. "Harry, you have to tell them them -"

 _Father_.

Harry flinched as a bolt of red passed right by his head, the light too real.

 _Make it quick_ , Lord Voldemort warned.

 _The courtyard - Dumbledore's drawing you there, he's filled it with students_ -

 _ **What?**_

 _You have to go through the northern bridge. If you press through the courtyard -_

The link went silent for a moment. Suddenly, an image was pushed through his mind, of a silent stone army advancing steadily two by two, impervious to everything thrown at them. Bolts aimed instead at the bridge, aimed to blow up the stone and send the stone men crashing into the water...

 _ **Draw back**_ , his father roared. Silence fell again. _You have time. Disable the -_ A blast echoed.

"Dumbledore brought the statues to life." Harry kept his eyes closed, trying to reach out again, but he could only feel the rage of battle swirling on the other end. Swallowing his frustration, he opened his eyes. "They're protecting the bridge into the castle."

Hermione nodded grimly. "Piertotum Locomotor. It's either McGonnagall or Dumbledore who'll be controlling it. If either of them go down, the statues will be rendered immobile once more."

Harry bit his lip. "There's got to be another way," he said finally. "But - there can't be - there's no way we'll make it to the Headmaster's study. There's no room I can think of that..."

Hermione glanced up, looking at the castle around them. The walls shook once more. Somewhere down the halls, someone screamed.

"The castle's sentiment," she said quietly, then looked back to him. "Remember? The first time we stepped foot in here? The staircases. The Sorting Hat. Every bit of this castle is magic... and magic isn't physical. It's an energy. It's not a mind. It's in everything, all around us."

"Just like the Chamber." Harry walked forward, his hand lightly tracing the wall.

"How did you... communicate with the Chamber?"

"I didn't. It... it communicated with me. But..." Something _was_ there, a thrum, just under the stones.

Something pulled at him.

* * *

He fell.

Harry awoke in darkness. Silence surrounded him, cutting off each and every sense. Panic shot through him, but he couldn't move, he couldn't speak -

A warm pulse echoed.

Something was there.

He fought down the dread growing reflexively in his mind.

 _Reach out, Harry._

He listened.

Something was there - not one, but many. Branches - veins - a pulse, a heartbeat, of power, of magic, of energy, all around him, reaching out - Hurt. Pain, if it could be called that. Poison, darting through the stream, blooming, its venomous tentacles reaching out to strangle everything in its grasp - something terrible, terrible and awful.

 _Magic is around us. It's part of us, a force that moves through this world. We do not exist without it. It will always exist without us._

He pushed back, drawing fire to the pain. It fought back, the magic struggling against any control, and he roared back -

A vague sense pulsed through his mind, a recognition. A call.

The magic stilled, only ripples echoing through the water. As he moved, it moved, and with every push, the venom lost its grip.

Suddenly, his mind burst into awareness, of every stone, every splinter, every molecule of air. Hogwarts was him and he was Hogwarts, there was no difference. As she hurt, he hurt - but he had to complete the -

He screamed.

* * *

He gasped for air, cold rushing through him.

"Are we - is everything -"

Blood pumped through him, deafening him to the world.

Hermione startled. "What - Harry, nothing's happened." She looked at him curiously. "You just touched the wall. We just talked a second - what - what happened?"

He took another deep breath, his heart beginning to slow. As realization began to seep in, he snatched his hand back from the wall, horror and desire pulsing through him.

"I think... I think I just talked to the castle," he said, testing the words out slowly. "I..."

A familiar thrum echoed through the castle.

"Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

Harry swallowed. "I think the statues should be..." He reached out, but only glimpses of battle echoed through the bond. "What does the map say?" he asked abruptly.

"Something happened," Hermione told him, eyeing the map. "The Dark Lord's forces are advancing."

Harry looked over her shoulder. "It must have worked."

"Here." Hermione pointed at the overview of the ground levels. "Dumbledore's forces will have to be drawn out over this area. If we can destabilize the rampart that runs between these two courtyards -"

"We'll split them off from each other."

The two grinned at each other.

"Come on, then," Hermione said, motioning to the window. From their vantage point, they could just see over the battlefield below. The Dark Lord's forces had visibly changed direction and were now slowly surging towards the castle, but as they advanced towards the bridge over the gully, they began to disappear from view. Blasts flew on both sides.

"There." Hermione drew his attention away from the battle on the bridge, pointing towards the inner rampart that ran below them. More of Dumbledore's forces began to spill out of the castle, drawn out by the fight that had turned toward them.

"Do you think they know he was driving father towards the students?"

"Do you think they cared to know?" Hermione shrugged. "McGonagall didn't care what they were doing to me, she just did it." But her hand was still, slightly unwilling to attack the ramparts while there were still people on it.

"Give it a moment," Harry said, their worry going unvoiced. "They're about to separate."

"If we aim for the structural support there, it'll bring the ramparts down with them," Hermione told him. "On three?"

Harry nodded, turning his wand over in his hand.

One.

Two.

" _CONFRINGO!_ "

Dust shot into the air, the rocks exploding underneath. In the chaos, the figures below began to scream.

Suddenly, a sharp pain echoed, nearly knocking Harry to his knees.

Harry winced at the rebuke. _Sorry_.

The magic thrummed, probing for something. Harry rose cautiously, eyeing the ramparts as he braced himself. The dust was beginning to clear.

"Not enough," Hermione said, pushing him back. As the screams began to die down, the figures started to gather, trying to figure out where the surprise attack had come from. The ramparts had held.

"Again," Harry said firmly. He brushed back the twinge in his arm. He wasn't at his limits, not yet.

The blast echoed across the courtyards. This time, the ramparts let loose a groan, the sound ricocheting as the stones began to give way, sliding into the chasm below. Someone shouted. They'd been spotted, not that it mattered. They'd succeeded.

"Let's go," Harry said reluctantly, only turning away from the window after her. The ache began to deepen, but he pushed it off. As they ran towards the stairwell, they began to hear the rising voices. A calm settled over him. They'd be gone before Dumbledore's forces arrived.

"We can't get down to the common room," Hermione warned, though it was more of an acknowledgement than a question.

"No. They'll cut us off at the Great Hall." The silence around them was deafening, a dark contrast to the loud booms that now echoed at a steady tempo through the castle. Screams came, running footsteps rang, but they had all left. The castle reeked of death and destruction. Flashes of battle raced before his eyes when he could close them. Neither stopped, but they both stole anxious glances out of each window they passed.

An amber light danced across the stairs as they descended, the last remnants of the dying sun.

"We won't need to take them out through the common rooms," Hermione mused. "The battle's shifted to the north. If they go south to the Forest, they'll be safe."

"It'll be better to keep them away from ours, anyways," Harry murmured. "They might agree to go to safety, but I don't trust them not to attack if given a chance."

"Precisely," Hermione said grimly. They drew back into an alcove for a moment as Order members passed on the hallway below. Making a run for it, they crossed across the second floor and down into the stairwell that led to outside. Above, the walls groaned as they were hit once more.

His raised hand paused. Voices could be heard just beyond, but unlike the vague murmurs he'd heard through the castle, these were children's voices. Fear seeped through them like a plague.

They only steeled him further. It would be suicide to attack Dumbledore's forces right now, cut off from any and all help. But these students, the ones left - he could help, if they would let him.

The door slid open at the slight pressure. For a moment, Harry was blinded by the harsh sunlight reflecting off the cobblestones. Silence reigned. As his eyes began to readjust, the forms took shape.

"We're not here to fight." Harry kept his wand in his pocket, his hands visible. They wouldn't know the difference at any rate.

Their eyes just stared back.

Swallowing, Harry studied the courtyard. There were sixty, maybe seventy students there, huddled in masses. Red, blue, and yellow mixed together indiscriminately, house rivalries forgotten. They were all students. Horror rose in him. Some sixth years he recognized, but most looked younger.

No one moved.

"Is the battle over?" It was a Ravenclaw. She hung back, huddled with her classmates, but her voice rang across the courtyard with a sharp clarity.

"Not yet," Harry said calmly. "But they're getting closer to Hogwarts. You're not safe here."

Some began to murmur, but they were silenced by another explosion, closer this time.

"They're going to take us out of here," one of the boys piped up. He couldn't have been older than twelve. "The Headmaster told us that, he told us to stay put."

He shared a glance with Hermione, but he didn't need to speak. "They're not coming," one of the older students said, stepping forward. "You think they wouldn't have come by now?"

Whispers began to rise.

"Who are you?" Someone demanded, his voice carrying over the crowd. "How'd you get in the castle?" The others drew back, shying away from the two of them.

"Lestrange," Hermione said finally.

Their murmurs grew louder. Harry met their gazes steadily, letting the rumors swirl. They didn't disappoint.

"It's his son -"

"- the Dark Prince, it has to be -"

"- is he here to kill us?"

"- if they're in the castle already -"

"We're not here to kill you," he echoed, finally stepping in. "We're here to offer you a choice."

"You can stay here and take your chances when the battle finally comes, or leave for safety," Hermione continued. The two studied the students in front of them. Some drew closer to their friends. Others began to draw their wands.

Harry prepared himself. If they chose to fight -

"Oh, come on." One of the older girls - a Gryffindor, by her robes - pushed herself to the front, exasperated. "Don't act like this is a choice. I'll go with you," she added, nodding to Hermione and Harry. "We need to get the younger students out of here. Where's safe?"

"The Forest," Hermione said, answering her directly. "If we leave now, we'll be gone before the battle reaches here -"

"Are you insane?" one of the Hufflepuffs demanded, pushing forward next to her. He wouldn't look at the two of them. "They're Death Eaters. They're probably going to kill us -"

"He's the Dark Lord's son, actually," Hermione said dryly. "And I think we could kill you here if we wanted to."

"Oh, shut it, Justin," the Gryffindor added. She turned back to Hermione. "Let's go," she said firmly. "If -"

Another blast echoed overhead, exploding into a tower just past them. Screams punctured the air. "Merlin," one of the students swore.

"Everyone, get up and get ready to leave," the girl ordered, taking charge. "Make sure your dormmates are all with you -"

Another boom ricocheted off the walls of the castle, sending blocks of stone flying into the air. But suddenly, the door groaned open behind them.

Silence fell.

Harry turned slowly, meeting Charles Potter and Ron Weasley with a cold glare.

"What in Merlin's name are you _doing_?" Potter demanded, but he didn't attack. His hand twitched nervously by his side.

"Oh, great, Potter's arrived," someone muttered sarcastically. "Just in time to get us all killed."

"Attack them!" Potter ordered.

No one moved.

"What are you waiting for?" The Boy Who Lived glared at them.

"Cowards -"

Just as Weasley opened his mouth to curse them, a bolt of red hit him in the chest, knocking him back into the wall.

"You know, I didn't think that'd work," someone said in surprise behind him. Harry glanced curiously over his shoulder, only to meet the surprised grin of Neville Longbottom.

"Traitors!" Potter shouted, edging back as Weasley picked himself up with a groan next to him. "Cowards - you're running away -"

"Stay and fight if you want," Neville said from behind Harry. "We need to get the younger students out of here."

"Hermione, get going," Harry calmly ordered the woman next to him. "If you leave now, you'll be able to avoid the main battle."

Hermione glanced at him briefly, but paused before speaking. Finally, she nodded. "You're right." She nodded again, and lifting her wand arm with a twist, she wordlessly shot another bolt of red into Weasley, sending him flying back unconscious. "I've wanted to do that for so long," mused Hermione.

"Okay - everyone!" she shouted, turning around and walking towards the mass of students huddled. "Gather up! Let's move out."


	36. In thy Orisons

"In thy Orisons"

Harry tuned out the noise of the students behind him as he took a deep breath, steadying himself. Potter was still yelling at those retreating, pacing wildly on the steps of the castle. He eyed the crazed Gryffindor. Potter may have been a pompous ass, but that didn't mean he was an idiot. He'd had training. The only question was how much.

He raised his hand, calling to life the magic that lay within him.

 _Fire burned on the battlefield, scorching the earth around it. The end was near, He could feel it - death sang in the air, raining down blood in its path. The old wizard stood alone to face him._

No one would come for Potter now. They were alone and they were not, but this - whatever happened here, it would be the end.

Potter raised his wand, backing slowly towards the door. His eyes were wild, but his hand did not shake.

" _Diffindo!_ " Potter roared. Harry deflected it easily. With another cry came a bolt of jade; Harry parried it again. The two stopped, silent as they regarded each other. Harry began to pace, circling his enemy.

"Who are you?" Potter demanded, his chest heaving. "Don't you know who I _am_?"

"I'm the son of the Dark Lord," Harry answered easily, parrying the next curse.

"The Dark Prince," Potter said, stopping in his tracks. Suddenly, he began to laugh. " _You're_ the Dark Prince? You're - I've heard of you. The boy with no name. The nobody." He raised his wand, throwing more force behind the new spell, forcing Harry back. Potter grinned. "You're a kid."

With a growl, Harry landed his first blow. Potter waved it off. Harry cursed inwardly as the ache in his arm returned, but he kept his expression level, betraying no weakness. "So are you."

"I'm the Chosen One." Potter pressed forward, sending another curse racing towards Harry with a cry. "I'm Charles Potter. I'm the Boy Who Lived -"

 _"Tom." Anger coursed through Him. The fool had no right to that name, he had no right to Him -_

"I don't care who you are." With a shout, he raised his hand, sending bolts of stone flying into the air above them. Potter cried out angrily, his wand slashing through the air.

The dance came naturally to him, his feet jumping across the stones automatically, the training drilled into him night and day. Slash, parry, slash, parry, parry; then it began again. Bellatrix's voice echoed across the courtyard, Sirius whispered in his ear, his father spoke to him in his mind. Every step was familiar and new, his arm raising reflexively to block the spells.

But each blow rained down unrelentingly. For every spell he cast, every curse he sent Potter's way, Potter was able to send two back. Their limits were becoming clear. Harry had experience, he had technique, he had knowledge.

Potter had the physical strength to withstand it.

Harry was slowing, and both of them knew it. Potter pressed the advantage and he staggered -

 _The battle roared to life before him. His most loyal, His most trusted, His most true fought with the strength of thousands, pushing forward. Fire met water, whipping through the air - Dumbledore staggered under the force of His rage - His son, His son needed him, and nothing else mattered in that moment -_

Harry lunged, blood pounding through him as a sudden strength lifted him up, and Potter fell.

For a moment, the battle stopped.

Shock echoed on Potter's face.

And then he raised his wand, his face twisting in a wild anger, and lunged forward. The battle began anew.

Anger made Potter strong, but it was his weakness. Potter yelled every spell, rage coursing through the bolts he shot at Harry, but he was able to counter them, step siding what he knew was coming.

 _Not enough_.

But it was not enough.

The blast tore through his shield with ease, the red bolt hitting him square in the chest. For a moment, the world stood still. Pain was somewhere - the pain shot through his head. Something was wet, sticky. Harry raised his fingers to his eyes. Red? No, no, that couldn't be...

\- _water flew through the air, the wave crashing through the fire with brutal force. It had only been a moment, but it was enough._

Harry roared as the pain rushed through him. His father tried to stem it, to protect him, but it whipped through their bond with brutal force.

No.

 _I can work with that._

 _A cruel twist of a smile._

 _His father - not his father, that stranger, Potter - I can tell you about her, I can tell you about your mother -_

 _We can be a family._

 _Petunia, dead._

 _Sirius, ripped away._

 _His mother's body, blood covered snow, a cold forest of death's silence._

 _A chamber, the drip of water - a boy in a diary, a scream._

 _Life ripped apart._

 _A teacher, raising his wand to kill._

 _The man on the bench, taking him away to a new life, away -_

 _Tom. Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom -_

And he was in the darkness again, a boy in a cupboard, left to die. Silence surrounded him. He could have stayed.

He could have died.

He could sense his father's magic through their bond, pouring into him. _The headmaster raised his hand to strike again. There would be nothing to hold him back._

 _NO._

Something roared in him, rage, power, anger, love. Strength. No. He pushed away his father, he pushed back the magic - he gave his own magic, he gave everything he had to the father who had given him everything.

Not again.

Never again.

He closed his eyes, letting the cold drift up his fingers.

Silence settled as the darkness welcomed him home.

* * *

Suddenly, his eyes shot open.

A fire tore through him, consuming everything in its wake. Pain screamed in him, ripping him apart - but no, not pain - magic, a wild magic, two that were not meant to be whole, who called to each other - rapids, pulling him apart in its wake, roaring through him. Pulling him down, pulling him under - he gasped for air, but there was none to be had, he reached for something that wasn't there -

Who was he? No one, nobody, nothing. He had no name. He had nothing. He was drowning, dying - the magic was ripping him apart from the inside out, tearing through him -

 _Harry._

His father's voice pulsed through the water.

He opened his eyes, and he could see.

No.

Air rushed in, but it was a good pain. No. He would not die here, not now. He tore through the water, pulling himself up - the magic did not rule here, it did not rule him. He pushed through the pain, ripping through, taking control.

And suddenly there was peace.

Something pulsed through him, a new strength. He looked down at his hands. Two cords, twined together. Thin threads of a glowing gold. Curious, he pulled at one -

Harry stood in two places.

He glanced up.

His father turned to him, his eyes meeting his.

 _Harry._

A perfect equilibrium.

\- and he was on the hills, spinning as he traded blows with the old Headmaster, fire coming to life in his hands, burning in a rage around him -

The magic sang through him, rushing through his veins. Strength, that he hadn't known before, strength burned through his exhaustion, bringing him to life. It raced through him -

\- and now he could feel the cold of the stones beneath, slick with his blood. He opened his eyes. The sun's gentle light showed him the way. Potter stood just as he remembered, his hand still raised from the blow.

Harry pushed himself up. Surprise raced through Potter's face. He said something, but Harry was deaf to the world. With a cry, he raised his hand -

And the light knocked Potter back. With a twist, he pulled the magic through him, its familiar pulse like an old friend as it summoned fire to him. The flames raced around him, the heat comforting as it shot into the sky. The glory of it stopped him for a moment. The fire sang to him like an old friend, the colors twisting in the wind as it began to dance around him.

He closed his eyes, letting the magic build in him.

Harry didn't need to open them to know his father was there next to him.

With a twist of his hand, it raced forward, power rushing through him.

Potter fell.

Adrenaline shot through him as he let most of the flames die around them. Calmly, Harry walked forward.

The dead eyes stared back at him wordlessly.

With a flick of his wrist, Harry let the last of the remaining fire consume the body.

* * *

A peaceful calm settled over him as he surveyed the damage inside.

Darkness had fallen in the castle, the torches only flickering. But the darkness was a comfort. Rubble covered the floors, large pieces of fallen stone blocking some ways forward. But the foundation was there, the bones had held true.

The castle agreed. It would be rebuilt, stronger than before.

 _Cries echoed through the battlefield as Dumbledore fell, the old wizard no more. Without their leader, without the light, the enemy began to crumble. His forces pushed forward, their victory racing through them._

Harry opened his eyes with a smile as he turned and waited.

Down the hall, voices began to echo softly.

"You!" James Potter demanded with a sneer, as he stormed into the hall. "Where's Charles? Where's my son?"

Harry cocked his head, studying him curiously. An impression danced before him, a memory that wasn't his - a boy, running away -

"Did he not stay and fight?" The words slipped from his mouth without a though, genuine curiosity coursing through them.

Potter stepped back, but then his eyes narrowed. "Where is the Chosen One?"

Harry glanced to the wizard's left as Dorea Potter came to a halt next to him. "Who are you?" she demanded.

He watched them for a moment. He didn't need to ask them, he already knew. Potter had turned tail the moment he'd seen the Dark Lord - the elder, the second Dumbledore had fallen.

"That's the problem with heroes, isn't it," Harry mused, beginning to circle them. "Doesn't leave much room for the rest of us."

Potter swallowed as he began to raise his wand. "Who are you?" he echoed.

Harry cocked an eyebrow, an amused smile coming to his lips.

"Harry," he said. "Only Harry."

Potter took another step back, shock and realization racing through his eyes. "You - no, no - you - you're not my son -"

"That's right," Harry said with a smile. "I'm not your son."

With a flick of his wrist, Harry cast James Potter into the air. The wizard's hands grasped at his throat, his face going red as the oxygen slowly left his lungs.

"And this was for my mother."

The man's hands fell slowly, the pale of death settling over him.

Harry dropped his hand. The man fell.

Without turning, he tore Dorea's wand from her hands, summoning it to himself. With a crack, he broke the wand, tossing the pieces onto the ground.

"We should have killed you as a babe," Dorea sneered.

"Yes," Harry said calmly, finally looking up at the witch. "You should have." He took a step forward towards her. Without her magic... she was nothing. The monster of his nightmares, stripped of all her power. "You will be nothing," he told her quietly. "And everything you have done will have been for nothing."

A silent cry tore from her throat.

The only sound that echoed through the halls was his footsteps as the bodies burned behind him.

* * *

By the time he'd emerged from the darkness, the sky had cleared. Harry surveyed the hills below the castle. Figures moved slowly below him, helping those who'd fallen up or making preparations for bodies to be taken away. The battle was over. They had won.

"I thought you'd torture them," Tracey said behind him.

He turned to her, making his way carefully over the rubble, rubbing at the permanent ache in his arm. "I thought about it." Harry shrugged. "But when it came down to it, they weren't worth it. They were nothing."

"Nothings who caused a lot of pain," Tracey said quietly, walking by his side.

"Mhm." As they made their way towards the northern courtyard, Harry observed the impromptu healing stations that'd been set up. Some of the witches and wizards were slowly beginning to move the rubble away, others darting across the hallways with supplies. He stopped in the middle of it all. "How did you…?"

Tracey looked around them. "They came to get us just a bit ago, after the battle ended. Wanted to get the younger students out of the forest." She motioned to one of the empty rooms, where younger students were huddled in groups, chattering in low voices. "Some of the older ones went to go help…"

But he lost track of her words as he turned his head to meet the gaze of his father. Lord Voldemort stood in the midst of it all, untouched by the organized chaos surrounding them. He was still, waiting for Harry.

He was vaguely aware of someone shouting to Tracey, of Hermione running across the hall to her parents, of Ginny and Fia heading out into the light together, but in truth he didn't quite see them.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically to Tracey, turning back to her for just a moment. "I have to…"

"We'll talk after," Tracey promised, grinning as she met his eyes. "We have time."


	37. Be all my sins remember'd

"Be all my sins remember'd"

 **15 Years Later**

"My prince." The wizard bowed his head slightly as he left the room.

"Thank you, Stevens," Harry told him, before turning his gaze to Fia as the door closed.

"What?" he asked as soon as the door clicked shut, jokingly suspicious.

"Nothing." She grinned, a sparkle in her eyes. "... My prince."

"Oh, lay off," Harry told her with a laugh. The light from the setting afternoon sun shone through the windows that opened out onto the rolling hills of Scotland. "How was it?"

Fia sighed happily. "Gorgeous," she said dreamily, her eyes slightly closing in memory of the islands. "It was... perfect."

"I'm glad." His tone turned serious. "Not too much trouble coming back?"

"Eh." Fia shrugged, exasperation creeping into her voice. "It wasn't... it just upsets her, you know."

"I'll talk to Neville," he promised. "They should have -"

"The Vigilies couldn't have done anything," Fia said in quiet resignation. "Ginny and I knew it was a risk to leave the country, they've tried to contact her before - and it was amazing of you to set it up," she added. "Seriously. It's not worth worrying over."

Harry took a deep breath, biting down his annoyance at the Order. "Where's Ginny now?"

"Oh, she wanted to go see the twins when we got back. Have you seen their new shop?"

"No," Harry admitted. "Though I did read that piece in _The Oracle_ while you were away. They didn't seem as pissed off as _The Prophet_."

"Pansy's just upset because the twins tested out one of their products on her," Fia said with a sniff. "Speaking of, how's the Academy coming along?"

Harry gestured to the plans his assistant had left on his desk. "Take a look for yourself," he told her with a smile.

Fia walked over, glancing over Harry's shoulder as he began to point out the new details to her. "We're expanding the girls' dormitories here and here... and the new observatory's going to go up here."

The younger witch grinned. "Expanding already?"

"We're going to announce it soon," Harry told her. "With the families moving over from the continent, the castle just couldn't fit all of them... Hogwarts is almost out of space too, but the parents seem to prefer the day system." he added thoughtfully. "We'll have to expand the elementary programs, of course, though we were going to do that anyways."

"You're always up to something exciting," Fia teased him, stepping back as Harry rose up out of his seat.

"Oh please," Harry told her, pulling on his formal robes. "Don't tell me you're bored with _The Oracle_ already. Even father told me what a good job he thinks you're doing." He held the door open for her as they made their way out of his office and down towards the courtyard of the castle.

Fia rolled her eyes. "I just wish the elections were over already," she said ruefully. "I mean, I know I can't campaign for Hermione, but everyone knows she'd be superb."

"She'll win," Harry said confidently. "I know she's upset about the whole Mr. Lestrange thing -"

"Viktor was actually quite proud, you know," Fia said thoughtfully.

Harry laughed. "He should be. Anyways, it's just a few more weeks. And with Blaise running her campaign, she'll be fine."

"Is the Dark Lord going to endorse one of them?" Fia lowered her voice as they came to the first floor landing, aware of the growing crowds waiting around for the announcement.

"No," Harry told her quietly, eying the waiting wizards and witches who watched the Dark Prince and Fia Black for any tidbit of information they could glean. For all of his attempts, he still couldn't get rid of that ridiculous nickname. "Separation of the state, and all that, especially with her being from one of the Inner Circle families."

"Of course." Fia's tone was emotionless, but he didn't take offense. "My prince."

"Lady Black."

But as she curtsied, he saw the twinkle in her eye. _You'll be magnificent up there, Harry. I know my father is proud._

Harry cocked an eyebrow in response, but Fia left for her seat in the courtyard before he could say anything else.

The hall fell silent, and Harry felt the familiar presence of his father enter the hall.

"My Lord." Those waiting rushed to bow, and he let them, turning slowly to face his father.

 _Ah. So Fia has returned safely._

 _Of course._ Harry bowed his head slightly, the only one privileged to do so.

 _Longbottom reported the Order was some trouble._ The Dark Lord made his way to his son slowly, allowing some of those waiting to ask for their favors.

 _Some_. A calm rage grew in him as he began to make plans in his mind for the Vigilies to hunt the last remnants of Dumbledore's followers down. _They're like rats, always finding a new hole to crawl into. Peddling their usual tale of Ginny being held hostage... amongst other lies._

 _We will eradicate them. And, my son, you will lead the charge,_ his father promised. "My son." Like always, those listening in were disappointed. Rumors still spread over the name of the Dark Lord's son, and where he had been before the war's could feel his father's amusement at his thoughts over their connection. _I could give them something to talk about, if you wish._

 _They'll talk enough when they hear of the proposal._ "Father."

"Let us go," the Dark Lord commanded, Harry by his side as he swept out of the room. _You were surprised I'm letting these elections fall where they may._

 _Well, it was a long argument -_

 _Discussion_ , his father said dryly.

 _Discussion_ , Harry conceded. _Regardless. I didn't think even Sirius convinced you -_

 _It's hardly as if I'm relinquishing my power,_ his father pointed out. _But you were right. Our legacy will be all the greater for this... and I will not be compared to that fool Dumbledore._

The doors to the courtyard opened before them. As the light blinded them temporarily, Harry could hear the cheers of the waiting crowd. He raised his hand in greeting and was rewarded by a swell of noise. Slowly, the black dots began to fade. He could make out Fia and Hermione in the front row, flanked by Draco and Blaise. And of course, his fiancé.

Tracey smiled at him. Harry schooled his response despite the elation that rose in him every time he saw her. There would be time to show her off to the world later... not that she needed his help for that. She was magnificent.

He turned, careful not to be seen staring. At the opposite side were his father's lieutenants, occupying their usual places of honor. Neither Fia nor Draco had chosen not to stand with their parents, ready to take up their own mantle. Sirius nodded in greeting as Harry's eyes met his; they would discuss the strategy against the Order later.

His father lead the way onto the dais that had been set up, ready for their announcement. The courtyard of the castle that stood as the heart of the new magical Britain was packed, ready to hear their ruler's announcement.

Silence fell as his father began to speak.

Harry smiled, his magic buzzing under his skin.

 _All was well._

 **Author's Note**

 **I hope you all enjoyed the story! The reviews, follows, and favorites mean so much.** **I don't have a sequel written, but if I do one, it'll probably be a series of one-shots by idea or request.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~ Alexye**


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